Becoming Oneself Poem by Satish Verma
Becoming Oneself
Truthless,
I was searching the self,
in truth of life.
It leaves many
questions, unanswered.
There was import-
of risqué. The generated
heat would kill
ordinary answers.
You can tear up,
a mountain to release
the particles,
although invisible.
You stretch out your hands
to collect black currants.
For a kick-start
you start shouting.
I am the truth!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 12:36:55 PM # 1.0.0.1119
