Eyes will not flirt again.
There were bleeding stones -
to speak of black magic.
We meet like strangers in tides
and part like sun and moon.
Do not go into the night.

It was scary to dare the barter
game of death. Gravel had no
complaints. The body was not found.
Nobody had killed the stars. Let
her go, I say, in the explosive light.
Do not go into the night.

I think I will move again in a
gift trap, accept the moon's treachery,
but I will not go into the night.

Satish Verma