Pain And Endurance

Satish Verma

The jungle was ageless.
Moon drops a hint.
Your poems go in flames.

In dark I had
weaved a dream. You were
worshiping a bystander.

The Ars Poetica took
a turn and became a
message for departing sun.

Republic of pain
signs up to cross the death
after meeting the talking trees.

Who will dance
to celebrate the history
of broken hearts?

allets's picture

"weave a dream"

Nice idea