Returning

You come home, sitting on my shoulders. I bid you farewell at door. Death tiptoes in dark before looking at the bare hands. A new concept of ending comes out from crozier. Uncoiling has stopped. In loincloth a truth unravels the mystery of cells. A warm transparency. You walk around objectively, returning the gifts to birds, bees and aspens. It was time not to put up excuses. The wings are tired and wind was falling. Let the dance of nothingness start ! Satish Verma