Night was preparing the final transcript
of assault.
Moon transcends slowly, subtly on waves.
My diminutive voice is getting louder
and louder.
Tell me, are you listening?
Why did you need to jump
from a tower?
Life had become meaningless?
I was still unborn, living in a remote cipher
ready to encroach upon your temple of love.
Someone was writing the names of martyrs
to paint the sky. A body spreadeagled
on mid - road was counting the years
in self-destruction.
Silence now plays a soft lead
you are now ready to enter the doors of wrath,
review the flesh.
Face of a flower now prints a name.
SATISH VERMA
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