WEAVING SILENCE

Do I have a choice 
before knifing the page 
for a meaning, when I was 
drowned in a nostalgia? 

Cinchona bark. This was my 
keyword for living bitterly 
under a tryant inciting 
the riots of colors. 

The digital death comes as 
a reward for insane truth. 
You turn the back on home 
and walk towards the sea – 

to count the empty shells on beach. 
Here life completes a cycle 
from emptiness to emptiness. 
You are ready to go in void. 




*On the death of Steve Jobs.

Satish Verma