Belief will lynch all the vistas,
one by one,
for art of living,
to break the silence of innocence.
I will scream, when hurts bruise
in temporal sleep,
for man’s hymns of wheeled corpses
wafting in eternal cliffs of truth –
being proud strings of a forgotten song
in the valley of death
chastening the majesty of scars.
I will pray for the brief funeral
of old age,
I shall not beg for mercy.
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: December 4th, 2012 22:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
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