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Corona
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Satish Verma A starfish was in my glass.
You blame the moon of brutality
while moondust had misled the ocean.
Darkhole was ejecting the stars.
An animal instinct sparts the bullet
like supernova. Black dwarf crop up
around the light house for airstrike
on a thermonuclear temper.
From nothing to nothingness you are
scared. The questions breathe into centuries.
The soul opens a globe of unrivalled green,
and a child wants to climb a tower of light.
