Half-mooned I have left the envy.
The basic instinct of lesser love
for my failing god.

Come to me, my cloaked enemy,
a sweet lover of pain
in the milky hours.

Mother of seeds was far away
and you wanted to suck on the
pollen from the wings of honeybees.

Soft and cruel, I cannot leave you
nor I can abandon the post.
The war cry was coming nearer.

Was it a virginal drink to –
placate the lips of a flame?
Time will never know the ultimate.

Satish Verma