Precarity

The system kills
a dream run, when
you went for a dignified
retreat.

Manipulated beyond
the moonseeds and frigid tears.

You don't want to
relive the epilogues, sleeping
to edge.

When the terra cotta
lamp fails, light weeps for the earth,
and unseen hands.

When inequality threatens,
would you still remain
my gripping shadow?

Ah, it is the breach
which shatters me. I wanted
my right to strike at clouds.

Satish Verma