Clean Hands

Deeply troubled inside,
I become silent
like a quiet, serene sea.

Impatience. It
has erupted again in my
hardened mood.

Playing a gamble
without a dice. An unmasked
body trembles.

I will ask my
river goddess one day―
where was my moon?

Exploding in its
face, the enigma had never
any physical.

Making things easier for you.
I stand in the moment of truth
on flames.

Satish Verma