Learning From Relics

A Poem by Satish Verma

Learning From Relics

Like holocaust,
rolling moon brings
massacre. You
burn inside.

The empire was in
ruins, I was searching
peace in half-truths.

A flying snake
lands on your chest,
when you were asleep.
You wouldn't find a clue.

The philosophy of
dying in beauty creates
a myth.

Why did you play with
questions. There were no
answers.