2 february 2016
Flame
What shall I write
from the empty, desolate heart,
when every word is being scraped?
You want to clean the mess
of a lifetime,
yet labour brings loneliness
and you inherit
the depth of a problem.
A thought which has no ending.
A constant battle with yourself
in the bleak winter of age.
One by one they have died,
Your invisible gods.
The vast landscape
of knowing the truth
still remains unconquered.
Pursue you must for the sake of moment
a flame which has no heat!
29 april 2024
AmnesiaSatish Verma
28 april 2024
Pan pokląskwa w ostatnichJaga
28 april 2024
CompromisedSatish Verma
27 april 2024
Uśmiech z trawkąJaga
27 april 2024
By KissesSatish Verma
26 april 2024
2608wiesiek
26 april 2024
The EntitySatish Verma
25 april 2024
2504wiesiek
25 april 2024
QuartzSatish Verma
24 april 2024
The End StartsSatish Verma