Artifacts Of Pain Poem by Satish Verma

My unique offer:
I want to embrace your
downtrodden faith.

A continuous buzz makes
me nostalgic of my
rendezvous with a walking
fern in early dawn of
enigma on limestone.

Would you mind to stand still
in blue light to-
read the unwritten command
of astragalus?

Where you want to
go to find yourself in
the black autumn of ashen faces?

The ice. A brittle
transparent truth of water.
Can you walk on the frozen lake
of eyes?