Carnality
I moan the departure
of death,
which was sitting in the golden
throne after the vision.
It had been a waging
war between religion and sex.
You want to align with the
sect devising the bared gestures.
Was it a personal vendetta
of the god who led the thirsty
years of man? It was a lidless
Hibiscus who will not stop crying.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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