Mounting The Zero Poem by Satish Verma

In the middle of a sentence
I become silent,
dig a grave
and bury all the smiles.

But you cannot say I have
not understood the wrinkles on
your face and ignored the
lighthouse which went for a sale.

The ocean will not spill the
secret of a sunken ship.
The volition was there, the captain
was there, but magnet was lost.

Toothache persists. Solar storms
were rising. A sunspot in black
center refuses to blast the mass
ejected by bowing.