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subject: Beautiful, beautiful [print this page]

Beautiful, beautifulBeautiful, beautiful

A cinder,

neither coal nor ash,

my life,

clogs the roots of swaying carnations.

Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.

Helplessly you tear off the last page

of the book

without reading the end.

One petaled coral, green,

hides the white death,

drowning the hope.

The river has changed the course,

without meaning, purpose,

meandering, engulfing the cardinal designs.

A homeless god wanders,

in my garden, to sit for a while

in the ruins of burnt umbers,

till the shrine is completed.

Satish Verma

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BEAUTIFUL

A cinder,

neither coal nor ash,

my life,

clogs the roots of swaying carnations.

Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.

Helplessly you tear off the last page

of the book

without reading the end.

One petaled coral, green,

hides the white death,

drowning the hope.

The river has changed the course,

without meaning, purpose,

meandering, engulfing the cardinal designs.

A homeless god wanders,

in my garden, to sit for a while

in the ruins of burnt umbers,

till the shrine is completed.

Satish Verma

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

BEAUTIFUL

A cinder,

neither coal nor ash,

my life,

clogs the roots of swaying carnations.

Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.

Helplessly you tear off the last page

of the book

without reading the end.

One petaled coral, green,

hides the white death,

drowning the hope.

The river has changed the course,

without meaning, purpose,

meandering, engulfing the cardinal designs.

A homeless god wanders,

in my garden, to sit for a while

in the ruins of burnt umbers,

till the shrine is completed.

Satish Verma

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

BEAUTIFUL

A cinder,

neither coal nor ash,

my life,

clogs the roots of swaying carnations.

Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.

Helplessly you tear off the last page

of the book

without reading the end.

One petaled coral, green,

hides the white death,

drowning the hope.

The river has changed the course,

without meaning, purpose,

meandering, engulfing the cardinal designs.

A homeless god wanders,

in my garden, to sit for a while

in the ruins of burnt umbers,

till the shrine is completed.

Satish Verma

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

BEAUTIFUL

A cinder,

neither coal nor ash,

my life,

clogs the roots of swaying carnations.

Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.

Helplessly you tear off the last page

of the book

without reading the end.

One petaled coral, green,

hides the white death,

drowning the hope.

The river has changed the course,

without meaning, purpose,

meandering, engulfing the cardinal designs.

A homeless god wanders,

in my garden, to sit for a while

in the ruins of burnt umbers,

till the shrine is completed.

Satish Verma

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

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