Single Design

Bearded face still looks from the severed head, in timeless gaze after the spitting blast. A nimbus cloud is lobbed on the tormentor to stop burning; the silver urn contains the daisy sick to wean away the enemy of tender shoots of tall trees. Blue mercury is wildly oscillating like boneless mast of sunken ship. The avenger of younger cyclones, we lost our grains in high noon on towring houses; the rivers changing the course to submerge the golden bells of masses and white flags a new born is not lifted from the dust, a time tries to become bodiless in a glassed dome touchless, smell less, only skulled myself in mutilating mud of black tapestry. SATISH VERMA