31 October, 2016

Said In Part

Impacted in lunar surface,
the centuries of dust and
dust of centuries, were willing to surrender
orange love,
hovering over your trajectory.

The second death will not
come, flesh consumed.
I will draw your profile
in white desert of psalms.
Life was a big funeral.

Footprints in snow were vanishing.
I have come afar from the
home. I don't want to leave
the traces of my missteps.
Time was very venomous.

The roses will not die, never.

Satish Verma

Closed Chain

Not a single word
wept, when sky was overcast.
Who wins ultimately?
The cell in the death,
or death in the cell?
I tried,
I tried not to do any wrong.
The centuries suffered.
The pollen in the wind
will not land. Each grain
was a harbinger of a relic.
The purple tears―
for bread and water. Who was
not hungry?
A peacock dance
goes waste―
without rains.

Satish Verma

30 October, 2016

Traveling Constantly

Again I have come back
in the crowd of fakes,
to understand the nature
of dark.

The questions have become
my beacons, I am prodding deep
to stumble on the temper,
ethos of white lies.

You will not take your own
life now. We will stop grieving for
the sunken ferry. Who allowed
the novice, third mate to steer the ship?

Do you know, where the country
was going? The swords had
become a junk shop. Tongues stale,
the language foul.

So we will go for a collective hara-kiri?

Satish Verma

The Atavism

The cannibalism was back.
You were eating yourself

The guts spilt,
would meet the dust,
in abode of earthworms.

They creep and burrow
and bury the organic themes.
Unpolluted, untouched.

The bowels undulate,
to the thumping rhythm,
of greedy feet. White eagles?

How far this digging
of gold mines will go?
Someone had swallowed the glitter.

Black birds are joining
the procession of
empty hearses.

Satish Verma

29 October, 2016

Praying Mantises

Unresponsive, an
alien ego: I was moving
deep into the soul-search.
The compactness was
snapping. Played against
the hype, the hawks were descending.
Like milkweed I drip,
waiting to be kissed. Copycat
the moon makes a scar. I am hurt.
I wanted to touch you
behind the lens. Closed in,
the lips won't meet. Cobra will
not spread the skin.
The lamb has lost the
innocence. Knife was
a blessing.

Satish Verma

On Sick Bed

There were involuntary
When you stretch at the sheets.

Those were scorching
questions, about my identity.
I tell, I don't have any name.

The body was partitioned.
My head belongs
to psalms, which I don't understand.

My torso to the lost
ship which went down
without a torpedo.

My legs were my own
taking me, to places, where
I did not want to go.

Satish Verma

28 October, 2016

Striving Hard

Like inky jet,
ejected on white paper,
the cuttlefish
of a poet―

was warding off the
unseen enemy.
The dry flattened
chest, would remind you
of a chalky desert.
Only cacti grow there.

You go into a trance,
then convulsive seizures, with
a loud scream. You
invoke the toddler god
who would kill king cobra
fifteen feet long.

Satish Verma

Silent Prayer

A manic moon
in ethereal night-
supplicating for a single
cord.Not becoming unfaithful
to me.

An empty desire-
in your absence, remaining
a secret even to myself.

Becoming pseudo, full
of titles, that was not my
world.I am engulfing my
achievements away
from you.

As the life moves on
leaving the bloody footprints
on my chest.I will
always fight my demons
with my broken pen.

Not a blessing I need,
I want to remain a human being.

Satish Verma

27 October, 2016


instrusive, was the withering effect,
questioning the sex.

Filling the space
between body and soul, you
sail into emptiness.

The mistakes―
happen in night, sleep.
Death will drop the stars.

Ergo, the embedded
testes will not descend; you
can kill the sperms of mosquitoes.

Blueberries, haul you
up from the darkness.
You will find your sun now.

Satish Verma


After a little wee,
I will put the record straight
by removing your name
from the hit list.

No more, the river
bleeds, chasing the mannerism,
of falling stones on
the glass houses.

A massive selfie campaign,
overtakes the school bus,
full of wayward, tipsy
wandering kids.

The negativity
targets the blooms. Roses are
roses, they will not stop
sending their compliments.

Satish Verma

26 October, 2016

What Was Not Said

The cuckoo gives
a final call.
Moon was rising.

Trivialities of the earth
be aside.My dream
is going to burst.

Golden keys in a ring,
hang down from your neck.
I am imprisoned again.

Into some intimate
moments, I will inject some
tears.My time has come.

Where the road
ends, a tall tree will wait
for your coronation.

Satish Verma

No Reason To Wait

The vagility
was close to disaster.
Standing amid the ruins,
we were ready to break ourselves.

We had come afar
in search of the golden deer,
which we find now standing dazed
in the moon's dawn.

The dark circles under the
eyes run deep, hiding the babies
unborn, looking back at the dead,
living god.

The sick society now finds
relief in the screams of
windows, that will not allow
the sun to peep in.

Satish Verma

25 October, 2016

Pack Of Wolves

You had tasted the
salt of a viviparous.
There was no asterisk
no bluff to cross.

Why did you turned yourself in,
when the rock was
melting? Was't it an act
of surrender, of sort?

At the end of the road―
moon was waiting for
you. Could you climb the
night for a rendezvous?

Coming of age,
you will not exit the stadium
till the rape victim is shot dead.

Satish Verma

Taking Sides

Courting the dark words
picking up from beautiful life,
I weave the tapestry-
in circle of silence.

The liberty of blood
had become obsolete.
You wanted one kill, one voice,
one faith.

The acid test shoots down
the black roses.What
about the mass graves as a
signature of victory?

You cannot stop
the bloodbath.As if a swarm
of big bees was ready
to hound you.

Closing the last window
I suffer.I would
never become you.

Satish Verma

24 October, 2016

How Dazed?

Eons ago, it snapped.
You don't fit into the mold.
Like onion peels, I am trying
to open myself
holding the secrets.

you alway had to invoke
the inner god and―
forgive yourself.

With the same
left foot, always leading you
to truth. That was not now.
Your belief was going up in flames.

Who was sleeping
in your bed, nude, like the
moonbeam, when I was not there
to undemand, the eternal sleep?

Satish Verma

I Will Not Be Back

One small step, in dark.
A silver of fear
slaps you.

You move around
to confront the past.
It was the partition of night.
Cobra white, when
eyes would not listen.

You drugged the stone
on stone,
hiss on hiss,
hair on hair.

I did not touch you
like burning coal.

My waterfalls
on red salt, bring the
largest tears of moon glittering
eerie wet.

Satish Verma

23 October, 2016

What You Won't Say

Don't spell the deportation.
Mind seems split-
with a maddening feel.
Do you see what I see-

the invisible lines on
my hand, piercing your heart?
Do you hear, what I
hear- the Hum, which has
made you go crazy?

Dying to unspeak, you
hide between the leaves.The
borrowers come like Crab fish,
ugly and demanding.River
bed was drying up.

Black sticks, things not
required- get piling up.In
wheelchair, you push
a crying doll.

Satish Verma

The King Vultures Are Coming

The causal effect
was the kiss of the blind spot.
I wake up every morning
smelling blood.

The space animates you,
leaving the truth outside.
An unwritten message was lost
in the watering eyes.

The aquaduct dries up. You
get the cramps of city,
after the memes of swollen eyes.
Do not open the umbrella,
sun was hiding.

Your brain becomes wired.
Someone slaps a sticker on your lips.
You cannot cry. A muffled scream,
shatters the windows of the capitol.

Satish Verma

22 October, 2016

Violent Flaws

You call an all night truce
of all stripes in moonlight.
Only milk will flow in dark.


The violets had a secret to tell.
Tonight the moon will
appear red after meditation.


A single parent, gay, has
come to stay in line
to accept his godless defeat.

Satish Verma

Poem Of Summertime

And I will hear you
without noise,
in the yawn of night
when I will open
my wound!

Burning in the
intensity of time's blood
I will not touch
you in my dreams.

A fakir wants to leave his skin on the
rocks in sun to become
parchment, so that you can
write your name on it.

And my vacant eyes
in summer night, will search
the legend of undying
grace, in the wasteland
of life.

Satish Verma

21 October, 2016

Falling Debris

Purity of thoughts,
must limit the knowledge―

collective withdrawl from
the valley of words.

Each life you had changed
the bed, to meet the god, in different attires.

Hanged from the roof
to understand the pangs of poverty.

The unborn century will wait
for the collapse of identity.

Man has gone too far carrying
the burden of acoustics.

Satish Verma

The Reckoning

It was revenge on you
by unknown.
You were sentenced to live before
the ashes arrive from thumb to thumb.

The onset of grief
was caliberated. I would
not live with a mad weaver
who will not heal the moral bleeds.

A line delimits the dots.
The dance will not begin tonight,
of democracy. The sparrows
were frightened. There was blood on the road.

You want to go into a long sleep.
The moon had an excuse to rise late.
The seeds will observe the silence,
before they come out of the asphalt.

Satish Verma

20 October, 2016

Parting The Ways

Like wounded tiger,
going for last innings.
Like Orpheus listening
to water, without looking back.

Will not entrance you
any more, under the moonscape,
getting light from
the nightingale.

Finding the passage of
sunrise, I will wait for you
to come last time-
for a goodbye.

Trembling like aspen
leaf, to steal your aura
in moonless night, when Milky Way
will spread the diamonds.

Satish Verma

This Universe

The spirit was not there
under the skin―
in grey domain.
I will not seek any revenge on self.

The defeat was my solo passage.
I am still searching
myself in the crowd.
More than enough, I had my share of hurts.

Talking of the innocence
of a womb, when you were not
born. The steel in your hair
and empathy in your tongue.

A wandering sage will
not love the fall of night.
You see better in twilight. The
shadows give an illusion of angels.

Satish Verma

19 October, 2016


This was a perception defict
when only a suicide could stop you.
From where to where we
Have come in traumatized stake.
Black tongues always ruled. No
rite of passage, where money changers
speak. How will you cover yourself now?

Feminized, the dance of wolves.
Do not throw the chunks of flesh
in arena― for hubris will
bring the nemesis.

The flint makes a pledge.
When the red rains come and
overwhelm the innocent earth,
we will make the tools again.

Satish Verma

A Guilt On Trial

Like a blood sport
you play with me.
My thumb bleeds.

Cannot be salvaged.
You are put on display
like lamb meat..

Jealousy will ultimately win.
Uncoupling has started.

The betrayal hides
under the lids.Side by side
are laid the golden chips.

Now you liberate the unbeliever.
One day the avalanche will bury the rings.

Let's not go back to the
sordid details of relative truths.
I only wanted to to prove that
I was wrong.

Knees broken, I will walk.

Satish Verma

18 October, 2016

Feeding Silkworms

Living in a different
reality. You wanted to confuse
the honeybees. They were dying in large
numbers. There was frantic search
for the skullcaps. Power
of the crowd was on display.
The stingers were on prowl.

Again the mountain
slips. The terrain becomes pathless,
placeless. So where to sit with a mirror?
A tulip garden has arrived
for inquisition. Are you ready
to surrender your cloaks? The
public servants will make an inventory.

The day dreaming does not stop.
I wait. The best is yet to come.

Satish Verma

Sitting Alone

The shallow incursions
grow louder. I have
burnt my fingers, lighting
the moon.

The future of currency
was changing hands. You
start bargaining for―
the water, the air.

Armageddon: will it take
place in the modern times?
Where are the titans
and the hill?

It slows the search for
the truth. The mudslide was
rising and the buried will
not speak, at peace with themselves.

Satish Verma

17 October, 2016

Wasting Of Faith

Annihilating your
own minarets to meet
the god once.

Little time left to make the score.

The climbdown has started
absolute and final.

The methane was
spilling out.You need a matchstick.

Awful.You cannot see
the kitchen fire.Where was
the sanctity?

A noble cause.Dousing
the flames, to leave a naked
body of truth.

Don't split the hearts.Only
give the shrouds.Faces
must not be seen

Satish Verma

Compressed Emotions

I had met the flower
after a longtime.
The rose.

And its fragrance
hauls me to childhood
after the big dying.

A tender, scented dream
will touch me,
to become a poet.

Lying on dewed grass
you think, a promiscuous
microbial libido begins.

The explosion will eject
free verses, waiting in silence―
to witness― the April fall.

Satish Verma

16 October, 2016

The Exit

The sleep was disturbed.
A book reads me.
The thinker will not rest in the arms
of Morpheus.

There is no road. You will
walk in the kitchen for the last supper.

A scream in the throat
dies. I have no soul. The night
looms large. I will not surrender
my pen.

Unquenchable thirst
was me. My head in a spin,
I go beyond the words,
to find the clapping hands.

Satish Verma

I Will Not Come Back

Let me paint a still life.Like
your eyes- unmoving.The irises
with shut pupils.

Why I should be green-
I ask my old mentor?

The terror of a smile
wipes away the tail of dust, with comets.

And the pachyderm remains
buried in the sands of time.

Touching the margins was gone.
You cannot leap over the grass of antiquity.

In fog twin hills will move away
without any acrimony.

A denial becomes a stake
a part of the golden ring- the boundary mark.

Satish Verma

15 October, 2016

Screaming Larks

Abuzz with profanities.
There were gene faults in your
conversation; when the
ice cap was melting.

It should not have happened. The
sea was creeping in my veins.
I will hold back the floods
with my weak hands and strong roots.

The shifting sands and deep
flaws in melanoma distribution,
makes you caste away. The ultimate
lullaby will find death at the door.

Let me commute my frequency
into zero. The worst was yet to
come. I will have no fingers left to
lift your name.

Satish Verma

Forever In Coma

Zinnias were stalking.
The fading moon hangs upside down
from the massive Ficus tree.

Ultimately the grace withdraws.
Now you sit under the bo-tree
becoming a wet Buddha.

Unthinking, unblinking
falling out of thoughts,
and start supervising the barren landscape.

The dawn sets free, the white
pegions to become prey of ravens.
Would you talk about peace?

The evil touches every next door.
I will write a long letter
to me, to unwrite the sermons.

Satish Verma

14 October, 2016

Without Guilt

Something exciting
was to happen.You
call for an assayer.

Morality has failed,
running after the
false values of untruths.

Pure virginity.
I won't touch you again
for the sake of god.

Crossing the threshold
like walking on burning coals
to test the bonding.

The mankind was
always cannibalistic.
You devour the body without blood.

Satish Verma

Losing The Vision

I left a piece of moon on my
table and started writing about
the broken mirror. There was a time
when we used to cry together.

Dusting off the old books, uncared
for months. A rare ritual
defines the motion. It was the
temblor giving me a dustbath.

Do you know who was the leader
of the pack? The greed, the authority?
There was a bright door, between
the umbels. Would you taste the hemlock?

Every thing is in disorder. You
remember how cranky I was when
I found you unframed. Today
I will embrace the empty wall.

Satish Verma

13 October, 2016

Dutch Door

Moving among the glittering―
crowns, as in glaciated valley.
once again, in capital of grief.
I am folding the twilight.

The viciousness of the hisses, zooms,
once you sleep on the bed of silence.
A blue light cuts you half.
I survive on the black tongues.

The assault was imminent now.
Flat foots will invade the afterthoughts.
The incline was treacherous―
You cannot climb up, nor down.

Give me a haiku after the sun.
There was no night work left and―
I am plotting not to kill myself.
I will burn an empty bark.

Satish Verma

Some Ghosting

Hunting calm, without
a kill, without a

A momentary lapse
and you suffer
for centuries.

The pangs of separation
were rising.No birth.
You become a white mausoleum.

And the ancient
bloodshed will take care
of the pearls in your eyes.

Ask the moon
to lift the veil.Bonfires
of sharp pains have begun.

The halo around
your face quivers.I was
not a god.You were not mortal.

Satish Verma

12 October, 2016


Do not sleep, as libido
Moon will visit
the shrine of love today.

It was an end of the―
lone journey. You recover
the path of lost poem.

A river lies buried in
my chest, unawakned.
Would you kiss the stone today?

Satish Verma


Trying to quantify the vices
in you, I am becoming

Going my own way.
I join the migration
of invisibles.

A plucked tiger lily
roars. Amphibians were ready
to invade the mountain.

The curled fingers
had become question marks.
Blindness had become a bliss.

Inlaid in the redwood
lies my blood. I lived under
the branches, naked, carefree.

Satish Verma

11 October, 2016

Foetus Was Not Moving

The mood-lifters
you will need, when
night falls and the poems
start howling.

The crisp massacre
of golden dreams, and you
start disposing off the defunct philosophy.

The myths of heaven
and hell, causing the colossal
anxiety.A dog walks past
a dead body, near the burned temple.

This is the world apart, where
you opened the book for
an eye hole.Then you suck the images.

The pebble in the pond
starts moving.No water was left
to wash the dirty idols.

Satish Verma


The caterpillar on the lawn―
in the name of god,
eating away the copper,
the blue veins of thighs.

Barefoot I come to wish
you farewell. You must stand―
in the decaying woods,
to pronounce me dead.

The auburn fawn climbs on
the podium, to mimic a birdsong.
It was sloth time. Moon was
away and it was dark.

The eagle swoops on tiny
breasts, popping up from the
nest of muse. There were no
feathers and no beak left.

Satish Verma

10 October, 2016

Secret Whereabouts

Deck is empty, today: -
physics of life unfolds.

I know you less now, what
I knew you earlier.
A cloud city after the collision
had become distraught, after taking
a dip in mudslide.

With chainsaw I am cutting
myself. Why not to become a fossil
with imprints of the collapse―
of our culture and education, in
coal pits of ancient times?

The body has hardened, bones
twisted in agony, I grab the window,
to pull in the sun. Only
the eyes will shine in dark.

Satish Verma

09 October, 2016

Unwashed By Sins

Life had tossed you in
Like hearthstone, I sit
deleting my colors.

Time on black feet
runs, on the sacred
river bank.

Molten lava will ask
when, and from where
the funeral procession will start.

A hard core wants
the evidence of rape. Two
leaves will not cover
the naked aggression.

The spooky game had
become, ultimately― the biopic. Once
angles used to roam
on the burning coals.

Satish Verma

Question Marks

The milk run appears like
flesh trade. A bigamous
marriage with two ideologies.

The politics looks like
a fudged slogan. The silence
was broken by screams.

A dwindling faith, could
not revive the ancient Buddha.
There was no pity, no sorrow.

Activism wades on home―
turf. The colossal night
releases the lynx vision.

I am the cipher, you
said, will not connect
to any integer.

Satish Verma

08 October, 2016

Not A Renegade

The summer moon with
poetry and musk.
I waited full evening
to become a coherent whole.

I wanted to quit, like
a Buddha, not to come back
in the baked mud house
where the sun would not break.

The earthen lamp with
a flickering flame, under the
holy basil, wants to die
before the moonrise.

Paralysed lower limbs
will make you sit like a god
on the altar, deaf and dumb.

You don't want to learn
about the red lips of the goddess.
Moon was bleeding heavily.

Sit in a lotus position.
Sky is going to fall.

Satish Verma

Celebrating Dark

I do not write about something
or anything. You will
not knock at my door.

I will be pained, if
you sweep the floor, to
tout the unwritten song.

I sing wordlessly. Even
the echo will open
the waning wounds.

My body, I give to
hawks, to escape the
elegies in the death well.

Even the night
will bring the pillow
for the dying moon.

Satish Verma

07 October, 2016

Chanced To Meet

It was not,
just a kiss of a zodiac sign.
You had become a stranger
between fight and flight.

The trick was capricious.
Albeit, a calligraphy
on a bare tree, engrafting
your name which keeps
on growing with broadening trunk.

You watch the sky
at night and start a monologue.
The stars were expanding,
filled with grief. The
despair of going back home
in dark.

Satish Verma

Venom And Stings

Behind the iron mask, with
unsteady hands, I
separate the conjoined thoughts
and start greening.

I will ask, the god
after a chilling spectacle
of undying freeze, that
don't give me the bliss,
but only truth.

No mercy, no sympathy.
I will walk on the spiked
road to reach you in your own
sepulcher, to become you
and suffer.

Who needs eternity
to grieve for dying lights?
Darkness has its holiness.At least
you won't see the beasts in action.

O god, let the blue sky
open like an abyss to embrace
the fallen baby.

Satish Verma

06 October, 2016


In search of lost
memory, there was no regret
of losing any achievement.
A Buddha was ready
to walk away.

Zebra stripes become
evident at sunset.
Was there an eye in the eye,
the smell in the smell,
of an infant sea?

There will be no
ache retrieval. I am dancing
around the fire, reversing
a sin. The ugly and weird
life has become hypocrtical.

A smoke shapes your preference.

Satish Verma

An Acid Attack

Sometimes I would
look at the lame moon. For
whom you were faltering?

Perhaps, I was a
mirror. You trip, fall
and become a raw wound.

One day I will
touch you with my ragged
hands, to heal my knife.

Satish Verma

05 October, 2016

New Family

To be honest, there
was no poem today.
A refusal to celebrate
the loss of truth in me.

The weather is climbing.
They have assembled to-
disgorge the peace efforts.
War was in our blood.

The great divide of
guillotines and blessed swords,
to behead or not to behead
the god.

There was very little good
in the evil designs.We have
logic and logistic problems.
You do not want a friend, only enemies.

The rebellion, the treason,
the betrayals, all were meant
to upgrade your divinity.
let us revert back to animal status.

The bread, land and water are one.

Satish Verma

The Intense Pain

It was unbashed invasion,
and then you were paraded naked.

The marrow was depressed.
I will not be able to collect you.

Lost in thoughts, I
am losing you in every book.

There was no striving,
to be called by any name, any monument.

Hyperplasia. The rot has set in
Would you come to greet the death one day?

There was a speaking ache.
Word was me, I was the tongue.

The turgid lips still remember.
Once the sting was here to take a kiss.

Satish Verma

04 October, 2016

Looming Large

The art of losing the
core-hurts, standing in deepest
You want to see, what your
prefrontal cortex thinks.

The suffering: the debris
fall on the eyes.
Vast Greenland melts.
The terror strikes. You
inherit the barren land.

I start talking with the
spirits. In the shoe box, lies the
past. The water was rising
in eyes. The scent of moon
sometimes misses the earth.

The butterflies, sometimes
come, declare the deadline
for garden prayers.

Satish Verma

My China Broke

There was an endless war
between you and me O god
from time immemorial, in the
desert zone.

The scorching harsh light
of sun has spread the veins
of earth with burning oil wells.

Green pods will not open the round eyes.

Now the sky was crying.
Songbirds are gone.The thick-skulled
were trying to find the scapegoats.

The king lies.Wants
to kill the night's moons.How much
big mouth was your's? I wanted
to serve my land.There were
no more waters, which
carried the flight of blue dreams.

Just because, I wanted to tell you
it was not easy to live any more.

Satish Verma

03 October, 2016

Not The God

A fathomless abyss,
you feel the power of wordless going.

Sperms leave,
when you smell your own blood.

The roasted pig,
or degenerating rhyme.

What would be your pick;
the dopamine?
The serotonin,
the medulla?

The radar will not follow you.
You are alone.
A tiny dot moving on the screen of life.

The morality was at risk,
with no window.

Satish Verma

Many Headed Snake

The spat between the hydra
and sea,
was the end of perfect relationship.

Now an unqualified, unknowing―
will take on the depression.

Were you feeling liberated? I would ask the moment.

Let us delete
the faces and go to war
without limbs.

This was a summer afternoon.
The books are in cauldron―

and you are praying alone.

Satish Verma

02 October, 2016

The Earthen Death

staring into a void-
for a door,
burning a sage.

Wearing a veil to ward off
the curse.

You start the baby steps
getting there, near the noose,
weighing the planks.

Now you are breathing fast,
getting a hit, counting
the hymns.

The corrupt booms
rise and fall.
An overt withdrawal
from the bet, to sacrifice the bliss.

White lilies washed,
in tears, let down the shawls.
You can see the holy vice.

Satish Verma

With Dignity

What is that of this,
I will ask from the question
which sleeps on the twisted lip.

The probity suffers,
when you burn your white paper.
Why did not you write your name?

The cortex invades
medulla. Your kidneys falter.
The sense and price become one.

A nude opend the pride.
The curves, the slants will
ask you to become the flic,

but you become a god,
accept the knife's version
and bleed to death.

Satish Verma

01 October, 2016

Between This And That

There was a trust deficit
between the rose petals, under
the wheels and the moving feet.

It does not resolve the ancient
conflict of man with
the machine via perfume.

The smell of the pungent smoke,
sits in the empty chairs,
when you were left alone on the burning deck.

Where the sky meets
the ocean, my ship had sunk
amidst the blood and the blaze.

In absentia, I am baffled
by the time's minute, when the search
of the self goes unending.

Satish Verma

My Opus Was Melting

I was preparing myself
for a Socratic dialogue, when
you come unannounced.

If lie was the answer,
then where was the truth.

Meet me night before
night with naked names,
smashing the space and time.

The invisible particles at last are in view.
Can you count after the
trillionth number, eighteenth
digits and beyond.

Nothing gives me peace.
I want to say, I am the God
to end the discussion.

That ignites an explosion
and we begin our journey again.

Satish Verma