That Is

Let be it.
The little bowl abandoning
the unreachable pink-light.
Ambrosia-
was searching a geometric center
of a smoking hub.

Flame-
of a bonefire was leaping
towards a topless tumbler.
The midriff
will spell a disaster.

A nomadic-
sleepwalker had become incandescent,
starts a prayer
for a condemned enemy.

My body was a river.
flowing-
on the impacted rocks of violence.
Was non-violence still relevant
in turbulent times?

Give me some unreason today.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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