When words die, I
wake up the pain. There was no
need of any elegy. A timeless scream rises.
We make faces. The
quest for the name begins. How not
to die after becoming wiser than god.
Your slanted smile makes
you real. No wish for any mirror. The
makeup is for the temple.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: October 10th, 2021 19:17
- Category: Nature
- Views: 19
Comments1
'How not to die
after becoming wiser than god.'
and this is why I cling to humility!
so such notions will never present themselves to me...
that 'God complex': of Entitlement
where All, is True
if you Will it - so: Tyrannically
as part
of your Warped sense of reality...
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.