A Walk In Omninight

Being a soft terrorist,
you cannot change me.
When there was nothing else
to do, I will mix the tears
with sweat.

Will you think of me?
Violence was growing
in garden. The spirit of
roses was becoming restless.
Why we were quarreling for grafts?

You said it was a
custom to kill the dream―
in bud. Timeless past
becomes my present. I will
never believe in the gift
of prophecy.

Will you join the painful
blues? Remove all the conciliatory
phrases and write a new script
in blood calligraphy. Why
all the clocks have stopped?


Satish Verma