I Become Black Poem by Satish Verma
I Become Black
Playing with cinders
I will reach your home
to absorb light.
Give me a talisman
to win your heart―
to save the moons.
Mars becomes the poorest
god. You won't reach
there to erase the red doubts.
The visitor stumbles.
There was no path.
I wanted to hold your hand
for eternity.
Why to murder the
god's messengers?
Was not every star a guardian
of your beliefs?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/10/2024 6:01:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
