Persecution

satishverma

I wanted nothing
from you, O prophet
of the holy tomb.
Lie in rest.

The living memory
fails, I look inside the
sepulcher. There were
only dry rosed petals.

At peace in temple of
flagellation. I am catching
blue butterflies.

I go for metaphysics.
Try to deceive myself
and forget the real.

In defining the being,
an angel wants a
pound of flesh.

Nothingness wins.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 20th, 2022 22:42
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 17
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    'At peace in temple of
    flagellation. I am catching
    blue butterflies.'
    Pure, distilled Genius!!!
    thank you: Guru
    (how unattainably rare
    those blue butterflies...)



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