Watching Myself

After shaking
off the fault
the golden thigh ruptured

and I moved into
the aneurism of
a drop.

Realization was the key
to enter the curve
of a moving circle.

The time had come
to take off the jacket
and penetrate a new

body of knowledge.
Budha was me
And I was the tree near waterice

Seeds
were falling
on a lake.

by Satish Verma

Other poems of VERMA (4519)

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