Tracking Down

White lotus at red feet:
we will start self-infliction
explicating
with regrets.

After a rough night
the day was weeping.
From where the bread will
come, when you were playing
with a golden spoon.

This morning I again
dig a hole in heart.
Was the Mayan calender right ?
Why the sun is playing slow music ?

I am coming nearer
to a locked god.


Satish Verma
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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