Pure Mundanity Poem by Satish Verma
Pure Mundanity
It should not have happened.
But it has. For a god
of dreams, there was
no paradise.
You had become an alien
to your body. Split scenarios.
A fight going on―
between two selves.
Every morn, a shock comes,
a revelation pops up. You
fall, a victim of civil war―
in surprise.
The headlights on, you
were driving straight into
the bright sun to burn
your wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 10:43:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
