The Crescent Moon

Let me be myself
in cloud of tears.

A streak of light
breaks the myth
of superlunary, when you
were at war with
leviathans of deep.

When hungry,
you were flawless in art
of love. It wakes you
from old thinking.

Hiding behind fears,
I freeze to wear the death
gown. The words crumble
under the weight of truth.

Life remains beautiful.
I don't want to leave you.

Satish Verma