Smashing The Road Signs

by Satish Verma

My garden cries for no reason.
Kindness melts into a rain of twisted petals.
And that is it.

Alone I whisper the translucent words,
watching the death of dreams, living fossils.
The sun bakes the seeds.

The essence will not heal,
this bandaged soul,
the conceptual death of a thought.
This fear is like a curled snake.

Must I abandon the path?
I know, I will not forgive myself
at this dim joint.

I must move. I do not know,
what to think, how to catch,
the poetry of night.

The light blinks on my eyes.
I walk in the shadows of sounds,
smashing the road signs.

02-Feb-2012

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