You Are Being Watched Poem by Satish Verma

Inheriting a non religion,
carrying stones on wings―
you wanted to fly.

In the hot and humid
Land, a cult grows
in one's own squeezed moon,
playing with words.

Stunning the future,
something hardens in veins,
and you prepare for the
battle of peers.


The world was changing,
to make you see, the life on
edge, discovering oneself in inner
space.

And sometime, you will
look at me puzzled.
For the wounded pride
was I paying a heavy price?

Was it easy to understand life?