Beyond the river
I will meet you one day
as a castaway.
Gently a mystery
resolves. You were my
half-being, uncensored by
quirk of fate.
That was the lost
innocence of a fakir,
who left the palace to
encounter the god.
Nothing to hold on;
the empty boat crashes
at the bank.
You were going to
become a father of unborn
progeny, which will discard
you at the end.
All the white lies had become
black truths.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 24th, 2021 22:23
- Category: Nature
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments3
'All the white lies had become
black truths.'
What a powerful closing line.
To be discarded alone is a crime. This was a great read. I loved the flow of the poem.
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