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Wounded Doves
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Satish Verma We will watch the
sunset in cahoots and
focus on pulsars.
You live for a critical
cause. Never to retreat.
Was it possible without
some happenings?
The words come and go,
not uttering any sound.
To live or to die for a genesis?
Blooded sky bids
sad farewell to humming―
birds. My half-brother
weeps silently.
Taking final call
of human chain, from the
foster god. I return to
my grass roots.
