The Wholeness Poem by Satish Verma
The Wholeness
Days are crisp,
nights chilled.
A lake of fluid fire, under the clouds,
prepares for a virgin assault.
I do not thaw the frozen hurts,
respect the disguise of the old lover.
Hearing my own voice from a distance? I
stand by the shore,
discover my lost home,
become a valley of sphinxes.
And the wetland kicks the pain
of earth to break into insanity of scars.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/5/2026 7:56:12 PM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
