satishverma
Hold Your Breath
Category: /General/
(347 views)
0
Something was always 
missing. I wouldn't
recognize me.
In my quietism,
I dig out the words, that
would give me otherness.
The ocean accepts
the martyrs of woody frames.
Fuel was not sufficient
to burn them.
Moon sizzles in
black fumes. Pure cotton
was needed to make wicks.
There will be a night vigil.
Where the crowd assembles.
I will present the thoughts
of a wandering soul
of unknown prophet.
Favorite Favorite Comment Comment Share Share
Report an item by sharing it with support.
© individual authors and creators. Create, Share and Profit at etastic.com.