DISSOLVING HOLINESS

Becoming blind
in lightless depth;
between the faults
we meet.

Moving the wheels.
I was the sound; -
spreading across the
unspoken epiphany.

Flirting with inevitable
doom, you crash on
the poems of –
raging green.

A tongue wants a
novelty of death,
in the arms of
the frozen light.

Satish Verma