Grey Zones

Turning a prayer wheel
to fire an arrow
towards your heart.

Let the veil slip from
your face― coming near the sun
ridding of the clouds.

Trees also can sing,
if you sit under them.
Was it a human way to
become a stone?

Talking to a candle
in windy night, I will ask―
if ever fever rises, will you
blow off?

Under the lips
some silver was spread.
It shows up only, when
eyes rain.

Satish Verma