Satish Verma
Turning To Dark
I believe in you, O tidal
mouth, where the salt
meets the stream.
I never had any God
to put the fish in desert to swim,
and someone can write a poem.
I am not different
beyond the unwritten
miracles. I cannot undo a cliché.
It is still my dharma ―
to listen to unheard cosmic
chants of blue birds.
And I reached the emptiness
of a vessel, which had
spilled over the milk of seeds.
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