YOUR SPACE
Poetry
Enlightenment Comes Late
Deep gaping. For that,
you go to eat fire like cassowary.
The dragonflies float to hunt the stars.
My voice will not die
after the call of the sky. Where is the requiem?
Has the hate been buried in water?
I will survive with
kingfishers, though hurt in catching
the stones, while making a wall of flowers.
Thoughts well expressed, Sir!
Padma
, Hyderabad
Author
Satish Verma
kantasatish@gmail.com, Ajmer
Aug 19, 2022