25 april 2021

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Blue Grace

Darkness always weighs heavy.
And light was weightless.
You were visible to me.

I was not sure, which
god went numerical.
I was carrying my scars.

It offers no solace
if I become you, and
start hunting the filters.

Let the moon rise in―
its imperial robe, in
praise of setting sun.

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