by : Satish Verma

Between right and wrong,
confusion makes a frontal attack
on conscience. I search for a human scope
between stones and dialogues.

Larger than the life was death of pursuit.
Parting of ways was imminent;
while the summer was playing its tune
and sun was pilin g up sand on sand.

It was heat of arguments
which was furtively trying to kill the antimatter.
The descent was steep for the truth.

A crescent moon is rising
in the blue sky of eastern horizon.
I think of crusades and symbols;
cannot close my window.
My tears have become indifferent stars
scattered on the tremulous sea.
Lifeboat is sailing.

SATISH VERMA