Abdicating the shadows;
totemic.
I return back to dig up the buried-
moon from the ruins of poetry.
It benumbs.
No response was coming from
cajoling the black secrets-
of time-cast.
A storm was raging in a pack
of emptiness. Like a dead fly
between the pages of skulls.
I couldn't find the exact words.
The religion of wish-lists.
Can you find the end of desires?
From thought to thought-
was there any vision?
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: December 26th, 2015 22:57
- Category: Nature
- Views: 10
Offline)
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