For Hidden Hymns

In a passing moment,
giving you a call in Milky Way,
like a lone sun.

Where the white clouds
go in distress, after
the multiple deaths of stars?

Sweating in surging
heat, only tears will speak.
Freaks will inherit the poetry.

Wanted to touch you
like hummingbird, coming
out of silver cage.

Your hands had lingered
on the blank paper, to print full stop
before taking the phenomenal flight.

Mixed with bone ash,
my china has felled.
There was a long hoof in wilderness.

Satish Verma