In memoirs,
I send you my poems,
from this insane world.
You can hurt me again.
Like a stone
of an unknown, I will
wait for you, for a potency
climb to understand the resurrection.
Life will extract its price
from you when you
are passing through a burning
heap of skeletons.
Your unending romp was
over. Night was getting ready
to wear a ceremonial gown at
the wedding of the genius loci.
Moon starts licking his wounds.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 2nd, 2019 20:05
- Category: Nature
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: Lauraš»
Offline)
Comments1
An Exceptional write...
as always!
Thereās always a price...
to live oneās life!
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