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The Deep Cut
Folder:
Satish Verma Under your baton,
The targets are being
identified. Moon will
find out the hiding
of muse.
A purple rhythm
will not be stymied
in bud. Hold the
ground. Sun was setting
very soon.
I have not heard the
boots of departure
as yet. The music
will go on till the
last breath.
A very positive black.
With closed eyes, you
sit in meditation―
until the flames arrive.
