The Eternal Quest

by Satish Verma   Nov 12, 2018


You cast doubt,
on the definition.
Gods play with words,
like winged fruits,
Man becomes the spawn of destiny.

Sparrows were flying
out. I will watch-
the window closed. A slant of
light withers away.
I am writing my poems in dark.

The vintage rings under
the eyes, will retrieve
the lost meaning of
truth, from the ruins of
time. I will again start my pilgrimage.

1


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments