Encountering a dislocated self,
here it goes, the “I”,
flicking out the name
which will reach nowhere.
The foreword will not
disclose the contents of
the book. It was reading
only a footnote.
I place a searing moon
on your plate. You can take
a slice of it and gulp
your agony.
The arrival does not finish
the journey. There are farā
away worlds beyond
your fantasies.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 25th, 2018 19:34
- Category: Nature
- Views: 17
- User favorite of this poem: Lauraš».
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Comments2
The arrival begins the journey!
Nice work
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