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