Impresa

In culture of counterfeits a snip of intelligent gene brings the pink tears for the brown eyes. A virgin goes for a spade in the naked sun. Let me think of polymorphism. Can there be an answer- for oblique questions ? Can this tottering frame live ? Life can still stalk the death and stand for the body in the sack ? Fielding the enquiry about race – gap, you said the walls are crumbling. I read the message half-believing. As a whole, the glory lives. Is that true ? • The gentle rain falls on the emaciated Buddha. Stand out from the controversy. A foam-born goddess will counterpoise the questions. The grievers are sitting in a circle for the dying moon. The charred breast of earth sends the flames. Who has closed the window of morning glory ? My blackened words are traveling fast to reach the stars. I am held in a shadow. Satish Verma