It was
a killing line.
Walking on razor wire,
when toes would not leave the sky
and heels will not touch the ground.
Myths and legends
were becoming a witchcraft.
Are you ready to eschew the classical script
and write a new fable, about
a life size robot,
who will speak for millions
and put his signature on the wall
of a dying moon for the sake of blue clouds?
The caldron is empty. No body was
throwing any baby in it.
Stay still.
The bold instincts will come back with vengeance.
Satish Verma
