IT COMES

Waiting under the opaque moon 
a primeval instinct takes over you 
and you start arriving. 

A black bone 
renders the ash on your forehead 
and you complete the circle – 

reaching childhood; you start 
climbing the ladder, 
for instantaneous release. 

The insects don’t forget the trail; 
you were bleeding from inside. 
You were never alone in a crowd.

Satish Verma