Like The Flames

satishverma

To erase your subtle pangs.
You become ingrained in verses.

I will not speak―
a single word to come to terms
with the unknown.

But life extracts a price.
You must become a buddha―
and leave your princess.

You will not see―
the Apocalyse giving rise
to an opus. And my child
you cannot read my book.

The voiceless dumb
bell goes on ringing to send a
call for the faithful to come
and jump into the cauldron of moon.

I boil in the guilty sun.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 9th, 2020 19:35
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 29
  • Users favorite of this poem: Chandra S.
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Comments +

Comments1

  • AlitaOpal

    An amazing write 🌹Thank you



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