Emptiness Poem by Satish Verma
Emptiness
What would you like
to wear, when oracle's
prophecy comes true.
Temple of pure love
was coming up, but there
was no deity.
You wouldn't think,
what I was thinking often.
Last night I slapped myself.
The black moon
rattles, after its message
goes into flames.
Can you talk
in piecemeals, surrounded
by smokescreen of words?
A baby nightingale
sings awkwardly. There
were clouds, no rains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/6/2024 12:11:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
