Moon S Shadow

The path was becoming pathless after seeking the deluge. Gunslingers were climbing on trees to shoot the white doves. There were ice needles in my eyes to check the inheritance of height. Desires move with a feline grace, lynx-eyed. You taste me like a lamb. I am unfolding, layer by layer; year by year. From end to beginning. The benign tumors are going to attack my afterlife.Falling,falling my bliss in midnight of words, across the solace of killer gaze, on a stretch of ancient footprints. Satish Verma