Lost Vision Poem by Satish Verma
Lost Vision
The pain cycle
celebrates the pitfall,
dedicates to the eternal flame
of catharsis.
Syllables were ready to
burn word by word,
orchestrated for a
random repeat.
Like blue veins opening
in dark without spilling the―
blood. But no answers
were coming to compliment you.
Image of self in mirror
sometimes frightens. Now
you begin living without―
body, metaphysically.
A bonfire starts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 8:18:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
