TIDE

The past and the street

were reaching nowhere.

Existing as long as the dust flies.

 

Mansions were imploding with great noise

A terrible end of a whistling

enclave.

 

The new age had begun

of molten glaciers

flooding the warm noons.

 

A new version of genocide is coming.

Earth, do not cry for fallen trees.

 

A fresh road – map is ready

for the junior breed,

who will strut the globe with vengeance.

 

Fear will stalk the virtue,

the space, the depth.

what is happening to tide ?

 

 

 SATISH VERMA