06 October, 2012

Bare Tongue

It was 
a killing line. 
Walking on razor wire, 
when toes would not leave the sky 
and heels will not touch the ground. 

Myths and legends 
were becoming a witchcraft. 
Are you ready to eschew the classical script 
and write a new fable, about 
a life size robot, 

who will speak for millions 
and put his signature on the wall 
of a dying moon for the sake of blue clouds? 
The caldron is empty. No body was 
throwing any baby in it. 

Stay still. 
The bold instincts will come back with vengeance.

Satish Verma

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