To The DestinyA Poem by Satish VermaTo The Destiny
Turning a monologue
into a hymn when you take a fall. The random truth in flesh and bones. Not me, not you. It was grace to become a fakir without your gods. The dead bovine gives its skin, so that you can walk on mud. A shadow changes into a Buddha, when you refuse to die. Taken for ungranted I will become an argument for half-clads. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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