Under The Lens

Not exhausted
myself pursuing, your
thoughtless fervor of understory
without retrieving my name.

Do you still remember
the grace of unspoken thoughts?
Once the cobra night, raises
its hood, nobody can stop the strike.

Syntax was
beautiful, not the abstract
of the hidden truth. You
resign to become a unique!

Helpless in my integrity
I don't forgive me, when
I forget my enemy.
And start thievery.

Untamed, by a large, rod
vase of moon, ready to
leap at a shooting star.

Satish Verma