Stonewashed Poem by Satish Verma
Stonewashed
It laps up the solitude.
A flame hits the stonewall
of silence.
A dust cloud, covers
the finale of conflict.
Nobody wins the race.
You arrogate to yourself
the skill to accept the heat of argument.
Can you reach the end of thought?
Ravishing black
picks up the fallen moon.
Somebody will go green.
If I could walk on
the lake? The faithless will
wreck the pledge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 10:43:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
