Soft night.
I wanted to outlive
the waiting―
for rendezvous.
A lesser god,
will not erase the path
of infinity, reaching
grey zone.
The tragic half
of timeless time would
witness the slaughter
of helpless faith.
Keep me in your
prayers. I would ask
the beautiful mind.
Who favours the great
sun eclipse, when
the creater becomes created?
A sick feeling ensues when
the temperature rises in deep sea.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 23rd, 2021 19:28
- Category: Nature
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
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