Satish Verma
The Daily Ritual
The cells,
climb the fame,
unperceived.
A bit of nose, blue eyes,
jugglery of stances.
You catch the body art.
The eagle
dives, for a legal kill.
Hail, the beautiful
execution.
To shut the voice,
you bring in, snow,
white blanket for every
one deprived.
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