Morning Mist

satishverma

A complex question― 
it was. Why your 
hands were trembling? 

The body becomes 
a kayak. You were sailing 
alone in the lake of bluebells. 

Elegy and epilogue 
become one. I have come 
to meet my humming bird. 

Still suspended in 
deathless space, the sun 
wants to hide. 

The revelation 
was not to solve the enigma, 
but to listen to inside.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 7th, 2018 23:11
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 13
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