UNFINISHED
Can you enlarge the moment, when the time stopped and you were trying to get a glimpse of beyond ? You become a no-moment, a no-truth , in a sauteed orgasm. And someone plucks a death from your poems to resuscitate you, draped in tears. The track record will show, you were only yourself, and never became a riddle. Let go of me. It was only a happening, undoing the play, held in dark. As I cross the door, you become invisible. Satish Verma
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