21 september 2022
Speak My Language
Trying to count
the beautiful years, spent
in the journey of heart.
There was an uncanny
feel. The pink coldness
was not mine.
Like you ditch the
timelessness, and live in a
drop of dew to meet the sun.
The flesh. A suicidal
move to move away
from the relationship of night.
Of the tenderness,
benign death of a star.
Dust celebrates the glorious fall.
The grieving will not
stop. A charred book of bliss
terminates the vision.
20 april 2024
To Dying MuseSatish Verma
19 april 2024
1904wiesiek
19 april 2024
The VoyagerSatish Verma
18 april 2024
ItinerantSatish Verma
17 april 2024
Nim kur zapiejeJaga
17 april 2024
Between Done And UndoneSatish Verma
16 april 2024
Przed zmrokiemJaga
16 april 2024
1604wiesiek
15 april 2024
I RememberSatish Verma
14 april 2024
....wiesiek