Roping in, as if―
all my defeats, creating―
a tiara for a royal fall.
Being hurled
towards the enormous black hole,
chased by the sun.
Like an old thinker
I was putting myself in a
violent comet's pathway.
Not being a whole religion
why did I worship a walking stone?
How would I communicate
with my destiny?
I was not born a shining star.
An individual becomes,
an androgyne, unsure
to name the gender.
I am going to honour the talent.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 2nd, 2020 21:48
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
Offline)
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