Treasure Island

Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

First Step of Creativity


When insects were crawling
dreams had contradictions,
a sudden dropp in temperature
brought the quantum touch.

Ending of the grief
or grief of ending
rejected every intact truth
and death was trailing behind the candle.

Fear and agony were following
the footfalls of night
Blindness was weaving a broken moon.
The time will not be answerable for any plight.

Corners of childhood brighten up
for sweet nothings
I adore the fallen god,
he was inhaling the earth.

Submitted: Sunday, May 11, 2008

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