Rehabilitating Myself

How much honest you were while climbing the stairs, to inherit the shame of century, invoking the remains ? A hip will not move for the voidance. A notch below, the exhumation will prove the Taser attack, stunning the history. Let us sit and take over tea under the depressed moon, pondering on the nature of man. When you reach the top, you become a lesser rich. Groping the lonelier grief of poverty, I become more humane. The water swells very often, I see the world now by closed eyes. I walk with my shadow shrunk under my feet. I become the world. Satish Verma