Do you know my
love, where the road ends
I will meet you
one day.
Life had been always angry
with me. Sometimes I would
sit quietly, doing nothing, and
looking at the hanging―
earlobes of Buddha.
Cannot hone my thoughts,
how to stop the violence.
The Sunday moon―
cracks open like a cotton flower.
The vandals,
I am done with. The headstones
separate the faiths. It was
a punishment.
O bronzed man, don't
hide the gold.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 1st, 2019 19:54
- Category: Nature
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
When we meet at the end of the road, may our faith not be separated by ‘the headstones’! May we be enriched by that ‘bronzed man’!
Beautiful words from you. We shall all meet with the truth one day and accept everything.
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