Strange it looks,
some one crying on winning a race.
He was o loser and a victor.
After such a long fight,
what is left on a banished field ?
broken skulls and roaring laughter,
Everything was crushed under falling snow
of ruthlessness.
And over the fire hangs a skeleton
of past.
The real truth again hides in the
Survivor’s eyes.
There is no witness of any crime.
The court adjournd and the symbolists
rejoice.
Justice has come for a sale.
The highest bidder will get the chair
now
Now will begin the layered aches
in heart.
SATISH VERMA
The music
of colour
in symbolic
forms
and
mystic
legend in
the wellspring of
dreams
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