Hunting A ProdigyA Poem by Satish VermaHunting A Prodigy
An open truth beguiles
the instinct, the bare facts. Something precious will remain under wraps. I was not ready to give voice to the delicate subject. There was no dwelling, no niche for a virgin lie. The soul was an essence of body, psyche or inner self of ageless― sexless being. Give me your palm. I will read your lines. You will strangle the illicit terms. The tiger always battles to win. Predation was not in blood, then who was the prime suspect? Ask, your deities, who created us equal. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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