‘...roots That Clutch...’

You know I do not hope
any intermission,
between life and death.
My path goes nowhere.

A hiatus between the mirrors has questions.
From childhood I was always
floating between the meanings
of lessons unknown.
I longed for straight humilities.

Present redeems the past.
Each sound leaves an echo
and has-been becomes the shrine of peace.

ad infinitum I will wait
for the primitive blood
to reappear, the truth of
midnight sin.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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