Glass CuttingA Poem by Satish VermaGlass Cutting
When the cut glass bleeds,
you cannot decide for yourself, what was the truth of― occultation? Fleeing from dark home of erudition, trapped in rubble of karma you want to forget the pride of sin. How would you know that somebody loves you so intensly that his water mark does not fade? Like a titan, a priest holds you in palm, to protect you from vicious eyes, before saying the prayer. The sun wants to take a refuge. © 2022 Satish Verma |
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