Poetry

Looked naïve, but he was
elevating himself on the heap of lights
unlearning the human commitment.
Hunger was his weapon
to level the uprising of underprivileged.

This monarch of darkness
picks up the best,
insists on low profiles.
We were searching fossils
under the rocks
to decipher the shadows of history.

Between the glory of hardened footprints,
we found the labels.
Contents unknown but enough to browse.

They were weightless
and soaring high.
But I was not able to survive.


Satish Verma