Street Fighting

by Satish Verma

Timeless pain and painless time were two colors.
On the canvas, I was spreading to open the heart.

Non-being touching the vast emptiness.
Life on the moment, played the abstract music.

Was it the fear of blindness?
Indecipherable handwriting creates puzzles, my laments cannot read.

Truth marches on my bones, dead bodies do not count.
The interrupted meanings are taking their tolls.

On the track, blueprints are fluttering.
Whom do we complain?

Foliage was without fruits and roots were dying.
And land smelled of hurts, sweat and tears.

Unbroken oaths and tools had disappeared.
And street fighting had overwhelmed the crescent moon.

11-Mar-2012

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