Pieces of day falling like
severed limbs of time.
Acoustic shadows
drinking the pain.

Exodus has started
of thoughts to find an
enabler, for misting voices
of indecisiveness.

Obscene contour abrupts
the ink. Now there is blank
depression, behind the globes.
Cubes have become toeless.

The night has locked itself in,
when suddenly grief becomes the sun.
The celestial makeup was melting.
We are becoming naked, like pupils.

Satish Verma