(5-6-1935 / )

Trying To Remember

A formless charm
waves to make you―
extraordinary. Taking it
too seriously was sin.

Your peers had
written you off for exile for
your incredible likes.

A long journey
took you to a quintessence
lake without borders.
You went like an arrow―
to take a holy dip for salvation.

What happened―
nobody knows. You were
turned into a white dove,
picking up black words.

Lynx eyed, you are
reading your own birth chart,
under the moon,
unliving death.

by Satish Verma

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