I want to make you feel my
presence, by my unease, with not mincing my
words to show my synchronicity.
The pain will not pay
heed. I continue to wash my wounds.
with blood. Can it be retrieved?
The vultures are descending.
I am collecting the cadavers. There
were no scars. Who washed them?
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: July 26th, 2021 20:59
- Category: Nature
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments1
'There
were no scars. Who washed them?'..
that element of forgetfulness
we encourage and nurture
to enable our survival, knowing
its very existence - insures
our cyclical suffering, can never cease
and will never - relent
for as long as we look up to the clouds
to judge our glaring mirrored truth's
of wilfully pathetic: self-loathing - ignorance...
(a questioning write
I couldn't help
but try and scribble a reply)
thank you! Guru
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