Satish Verma
Taking A Form
Like a falcon
you dive with a notched nose.
There was an element
of absurd in your style.
Crushed under snow,
I would search my lost
shoes. The spirit to move on
wakes me up again.
The pursuit of perfect
truth in jungle of fake
excuses. I was wary
of animal grins.
Thugs, they have become
the stewards. Life was mystery.
Death sorts out the secret
of undying passions.
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