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To Dying Muse
Folder:
Satish Verma I tried to sleep
under the sun at night. From moon
to moon summoning the pains.
Someone wants to cut
the clouds. I was indebted to darkness.
Blue light comes to kiss me.
The witch-hazel wails.
Let the blood flow from the eyes
of crying earth. Do you listen?
While I do not like to think
While I do not like to think of the Muse every facing demise, I very much like the phrases in your poem, especially the sixth line.
Starward