What Comparison?

The displaced years cling to your body like an extended death. I wanted to see what could not be seen by clutching. the lifeless doubts. Emotions play: potentials are threatened. Remaining alert becomes a punishment. I grieve for the dementia, the night yawns. The walking trees start swapping the roots. Folds of sorrow whisper of morality. The apocalyptic prophecy wants to know: “Have you ever seen the hell?” SATISH VERMA