In a conclave

I fall I rise
Morning evening
Night day
And dying
And dying.

I open my eyes
See nothing
I hear everything
No sound there coming.

My temple my god
Still alive
My vision my emotion
Still alive.

And I invite
The rage of my wife
And my senses
Five.

I visualised
Sit in a conclave
Not shaped.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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