The Benevolence

Borderless pain was
said untold. I am writing
a new chapter of night.

The somatic scent―
does not rise now, for the peaks
dissecting the snowy falls.

Racial climbdown
brings friction amids the uniqueness
of downtrodden dolls.

There was an intense―
urge to rip open the endless sky―
to find the secret of blackness.

The fabled light,
fails to distinguish between
eyes and ears. A blind man

will not find the shape
of truth by noises.

Satish Verma