Solitude
A flickering diyo light
is all that remains.
A dark night
and a lonely temple.
No pilgrims,
no priests,
no devotees.
The deity finally rests
among fermenting flowers
A flickering diyo light
is all that remains.
A dark night
and a lonely temple.
No pilgrims,
no priests,
no devotees.
The deity finally rests
among fermenting flowers
Poem
White,
perfect white.
Like silence of the night,
expectant
and nervous.
Cold
as if frozen.
Virgin and flawless.
The white sheet of paper.
Is my poetry really good enough for this?
White,
perfect white.
Like silence of the night,
expectant
and nervous.
Cold
as if frozen.
Virgin and flawless.
The white sheet of paper.
Is my poetry really good enough for this?
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