The Riddles Poem by Satish Verma

Expiating for what
I am. Sun will ask
some questions.

For whom the prayers
are said in unison―
when the archangel was standing in dark?

Why the light restores
the naked aggression ―
when the moon was being disrobed?

The cloud of my eyes
and silence of your smiling lips
collide to say whole truth.

Moment of inertia
will need the finality
of time's retaliation.

In hanging garden, the―
unseen's will come to celebrate.