Hunting A Prodigy

An open truth beguiles
the instinct, the bare facts.
Something precious will remain
under wraps.

I was not ready to give voice
to the delicate subject. There was
no dwelling, no niche for a
virgin lie.

The soul was an essence of body,
psyche or inner self of
ageless― sexless being.

Give me your palm. I will
read your lines. You will strangle
the illicit terms. The tiger
always battles to win.

Predation was not in
blood, then who was the
prime suspect?

Ask, your deities, who created us equal.

Satish Verma