An Ecopoem

Climbing up the sun,
you had no expectancy.
Pressed between the lips
there was pure blankness.

Something dies in me
daily. It was time to commit,
your shirt to a magician
asking the miracles not to happen.

Beneath moonlight
dark tears of stones flow.
Someday the mountains will cry
and the snow burns.

The world does not end
here. It thrives on hate, murder
and abuse. Will you stand up
between love and blues?

Satish Verma