Theme: Life

Insult The Death

by Satish Verma
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Blows had blackened the mist,
fear of crossing the road,
dented the veil.

‘Ism’ versus the boundary had a long rhetoric.
I was struggling with scars of learning.
Pain unwrapped the gift of rhythm with confession
bitten by scorpions, blue and cold.

Finding the cause does not solve the rigidity.
Entering my own genome,
increases the panic attack,
where I am heading after all?

And today sun beats the unentered thighs marrow,
blood of a martyr,
who pledged to die to himself
between enquiry and truth.

Fragmented self now seeks totality
and the mystery of staying alive,
when the hills are dead and green had turned around.

As usual I am meditating,
to live or not to live.
The greatness of earth still impresses,
it does not insult the death.

28-Feb-2012

More By  :  Satish Verma

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