Echos In September

Under a sickle moon,
the effect was colossal.
The mute words
were floating like vespae.

There was no―
promised nest of paper.
You cannot land
without ink.

The grey beard starts
weaving a web of
lies. Larvae will―
feed on blessed water.

Very warm, very hollow.
The globe turns. You stand
on the surface,
cannot fathom out the human mind.

Satish Verma