Non-Story
Questions are the answers
and answers are the questions.
They never die. The words
collect the dripping wounds.
Memories emmigrate to wasteland
and the city drowns in a lake.
Our infallible pride has no challenge
trust the precarious teeth.
Beyond eloquence life drifts
from unknown to unknown.
A fruitless search in a grey winter
of thinking trees. Tall,
beautiful, but faith has taken a U– turn.
The span of obscurity
reflects a twisted wisdom
burning the books of tomorrow.
The fear, depression
and brutal game of corruptible views
I deal with a non-story
of cultivated meditation.
The duality of hate
and love, bread and hunger.
I stand on a quicksand
to balance the beach
and find the missed links.
SATISH VERMA
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