How To Think

The vision of the past was
blurred. The future doesn't
promise the utopia.

I stop digging
and wait for you,
to restore the trust.

Back to back the
ideologies would suffer. You rustle
the hair of unknown pain.

Nightmares hiss.
I will bite your hand.
Didn't call the stranger.
The reaper will play your game.

Cinders and clouds.
Nobody wins. I unwrap
my book and read your
face again.

Can you see me in dark?
I am burning.

Satish Verma