Poetry

It was the hiatus
that underlying silence
of which I was hearing the voices.

There was nothing left to be said.
I wanted to levitate in void
to unlearn what I understood.

Why the distance interpolates
between the guilt and acceptance?
Leaves are falling in different colors.

Time avenges, burns the grass,
the lips, the retina,
the black walls and white numbers.

Inner peace will return
on the ashes of fallen trees.
Life will resume another journey.


Satish Verma