Satish Verma
Descending Peace
After a hard day
a game-changing starts,
igniting the night.
You are buried
in stitches. The wounds
are devoid of blood.
Will you split the─
silence along the words?
There was no awareness now.
A persona
becomes a revolution. The streets
are painted red.
The monument
drifts. You wash the landscape
with moonlight.
https://truml.com