Transitional Edge

Pathways have no boundaries, thinker was without a thought. Hostile mind refuses to believe truth was missing from life. From depth to depth measurement had failed. God does not know his creation now. Foolish flesh now burns in thudding bangs of dry butter. I want you to touch the opaque eyes of eternity. In captivity of sighs and groans. You ought to understand who was original. There had been free invitation to become unfaithful. There were masks, gene shifts and longevity. This evening a drama will be enacted in sky by unburnt bras and a black hole. There will be thrill. It was easy to bury the skulls among floating names. The wreath will be placed on the transitional edge of sweetness. Which never was. SATISH VERMA