Rumblings

satishverma

You hide behind the words. 
It was my priviledge 
to start the fire. 

Looking at the bare moon 
in black sky, 
you open the blue veinsā€• 

to explore the anatomy of 
pain. Sometimes you want 
to suffer in the hands of impossible. 

Life wants its share of death, 
when you were playing autumn, 
frightening the lantern. 

A nameless breeze offers 
the whiff of a musk deer, 
that lost the tree for scent-marking.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 23rd, 2018 21:11
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 8
  • Users favorite of this poem: LaurašŸŒ»
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Comments +

Comments1

  • LaurašŸŒ»

    Your privilege indeed!



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