A Plea

Lord help me
I’m changing too fast
And I can’t keep up with my cells
Soon I’ll turn to sand, and I won’t know what to make of myself anymore.
Is there a way I can stay this ripe? Like a fruit that never dries.
Can you turn me into a painting?
Or like the hieroglyphic arts in Egyptian tombs;
to be imprinted for centuries to come,
alongside carvings of painted eyes full of desire
and lips that hold centuries old secret
under cobwebs,
yet never old


Published by Samasya Tapasya

Samasya? Tapasya!

3 thoughts on “A Plea

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