Truth was me
when serotonin appeared
for a golden deal.
Self-effacing―
a fragile kiss, in
bouts of darkness.
Moonlight was sitting
on treetops, when I was
conversing with god.
There was slaughter in the
sea of demons. I do not survive.
I do not die.
In ripened pain,
I will go for half-moon
to solve the puzzle of bald hunger.
Redwood knows―
how the sap rises to
build the tight grains of faith.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: April 9th, 2020 21:05
- Category: Nature
- Views: 5
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