My TheologyA Poem by Satish VermaI will do no harm in asking the colors of
I will do no harm
in asking the colors of dazzling stripes so lovelorn that they cling like reptiles. Cold-blooded. Transcend like seagulls, which dive to catch their own images. You kept on walking on cobble-stones. Half your life sat between two deaths. One of redwood and other of falling star. You want to go back to lake for a holy bath. Ignites. You bleed like a hidden wound. Never finishing― of endless journey. You will never find your namesake. © 2020 Satish Verma |
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