Thinker Was A Thought Poem by Satish Verma
Thinker Was A Thought
Very nervy to touch
you, O moon why you have come
to my room. No influence. Lucky kisses.
You want to probe,
to discover the wounds of moonbeams
in your mind. Sometimes flames come.
In praise of pain
you become a rose, to dance in a violent
storm to come out on stage.
Wednesday, June 26, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: life,wounds
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8/28/2026 7:28:53 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
