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.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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