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Flowering of the Thought

Belonging to unbelonging was becoming a method exploring the path. In the backyard unpleasant fumes were rising. Nocturnal swoop of enlightment, clearly becomes a festival of yellow death. Who was hiding the truth? Flowering of the thought in sky ripens cessation of grief. Slopes and summits, bring tears in eyes. Solace of ancestral home was gone. Bold ceilings were hung by ungodly fears. Wet hands lift the body of past, classical future was gleaming slowly. SATISH VERMA

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 12/10/2010 11:07:00 AM
A mysterious poem, yet at the same time sharply focused and clear - amazing
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Date: 12/10/2010 6:33:00 AM
The line "Solace of ancestral home was gone"..That would be so sad for all traces of ancestral home to be gone as in the tactile place, people of that place who were older, or in a memory that is suffering from Alzheimer's or some form of dementia...Sara
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things