Mud Path

Non-eye vision penetrates. 
The silent song trembles
I weave a pattern 
to resolve the crisis
the escape to white
space was useless. 
The ending of sorrow 
was a movement on circuit 
the center has started vanishing.

Thinking was preventing
the completeness of self.
A single flower is answer of nature.
The echo of pulsating memories.
the landscape is full of quotations. 
No one reads. Denials 
and evasions want more attention.

A new road enters the body
on the edge of a prayer
infinitely small, a handful of vowels
sailing in my mind,
give powerful eyes to faith.
The abstracted meaning
leaves a sweet taste in mouth. 
I lay out a mud path for the reader.


SATISH VERMA

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