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In Aloneness
Folder:
Satish Verma It was a thorn in flesh
before our fires met in midstream,
the waterplant had become untouchable.
I saw you lying
behind a thin veil,
like a prophet, in timeless agony.
The moon had left a wreath
for a failed worrior,
who could not move into the tunnel.
Entering the childhood again
to reap the sorrow
of a dry fountain.
Ah, in the eternal withdrawl
I come face to face
with my dying earth.
