Through The Ashes

Outside, a discreet moon
was rising, breathing―
dark. I was wary of strange clouds
of unknown scents.

Like a blue absence of nothing,
from nothing to emptiness.

The religion of unspoken
prayers― I start the journey,
to void. From there a turbulence will begin.

Blinking eyes― will find
the answer to a no-question, at
the end of the conflict―

when the face is lost to sadness.
You will not take off
your shoes.

Satish Verma