Your Tresses Of Night Shade

satishverma

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 Offline)
  • Published: September 1st, 2019 19:54
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 28
  • Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Laura🌻

    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’!

  • dusk arising

    Beautiful words from you. We shall all meet with the truth one day and accept everything.



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