You don't wish to
become involved with yourself―
until the enigma was
unlocked.
You speak allusively,
when I ask for the
embrace of blind pains.
I don't remember
when you enticed me under
the weight of guiltless
surrender.
Moon drops a word.
Lake drinks a potion.
The clouds gather.
I read a poem.
Mystery deepens.
I was not ready to crumble,
you will not melt in moonlight.
Nobody opens the door.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: December 12th, 2021 19:56
- Category: Nature
- Views: 36
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
but we still gather
either side, of that same locked door:
some who believe in miracles
others
who are adamant about merit...
(in the words of the great Li Bai:
'Lifting my head I gaze at the bright moon
Bowing my head, thinking of home.')
another brilliant write
thanks for sharing, Guru!
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