Why don't you come out of
your pain to heal your granite. Do you
think a triangle of love can be made?
The bread tastes bitter.
The rotten pears fall to become pink in the
dark season. Night was donating earthen lamps.
Come back to the bonfire.
Squirrels were hungry. No nuts to break
the teeth. Moon was yawning.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 29th, 2021 19:57
- Category: Nature
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
'Do you
think a triangle of love can be made?'
sometimes, and Yet
mostly I look up
at the round Moon
and the round Sun
and the round Planets above us,
thinking
maybe, All - is Cyclical by design;
this Earth that moves beneath our very feet, hurtling
yet gripped in-place
a looping status of miraged Space
freedom - on a gravitational leash...
but then
isn't the inevitability within hierarchal pyramids,
that, which subjugates humanity into a cycle of self sabotage,
Every generation;
from ideology to logic, faith to science,
Love to Nihilism..
there's a seemingly endless need in our conceptualisation of the Universe
to insure, just like Our finite experience of existence
every Idea we contemplate, must first
be imbued with that Fallible capacity to self destruct, to End
to acquire a necessary, Death
because, that's all we know
and Everything: we Fear...!
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