Thinning
Undating the memories
in final push to cauldron, I said:
let the words burn to ashes,
in terminal journey,
of eternal flight.
You turn a blind eye to sun’s venom.
Moon, the blue baby in a casket
rubbing the white clouds
for a trek to intoxication.
I ignore the opium field,
to collect the bullets
and bones of infants.
Seeking peace in a simple
shade of hymn.
Perhaps stars are listening.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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