Something Of Nothing

The renegade
wants to come home
for penitence.

Execution wants to uphold
and become a doer again
without thoughts. Only cessation.

Between shade and tree
lived an apparition. It wore
a moon on the head.

There was no ending. The
free suspending threads,
join to make a circle,
like the god and his creation.

From oceans apart―
touching you,
by my
poems.

You were an accident
and you were the witness.

Satish Verma