Talking of doors
without walls. They shut
and open, but don't lead
you anywhere.
This was no insult to the house of cards.
I will ask the rains
to stop for a while.
Don't you be wet for any hurt,
before knowing who you were.
In quietus, your
thoughts move like serrated knives.
There will be blood, on the paper and a
trace of guilt.
Learning to sink
like a log tied to a huge
stone. Will it matter? Then,
from where the energy comes?
The untold secret
was heavier, than the
vocal denial. Was there a
reticent surrender.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: November 29th, 2020 21:39
- Category: Nature
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments1
You write of universal mystery in such lovely poetry. It reflects the mysterious cosmos nicely and leads me to dreams, sensing deep connectedness and contemplation. Thanks for inspiration satishverma!
J
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