Satish Verma
Transitional Edge
Pathways have no boundaries,
thinker was without a thought.
Hostile mind refuses to believe
truth was missing from life.
From depth to depth measurement had failed.
God does not know his creation now.
Foolish flesh now burns in thudding bangs
of dry butter. I want you to touch the
opaque eyes of eternity. In captivity of
sighs and groans. You ought to understand
who was original. There had been free
invitation to become unfaithful.
There were masks, gene shifts and longevity.
This evening a drama will be enacted in sky
by unburnt bras and a black hole. There will
be thrill. It was easy to bury the skulls among
floating names. The wreath will be placed
on the transitional edge of sweetness.
Which never was.
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