a poem by Satish Verma, India

I move alone. No shadow walks with me.
The sun hangs high on the hills.
Nobody melts the silence, words deflect from empty sky.
A constant squabbling in skull fills the void.
I am, I am not in this world of timeless oblivion.
Vanity of self-deception makes me uneasy.
This cruel time will ultimately stalk.
Fog is spreading. A self-portrait is emerging on the
flood ravaged wall of a temple.


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