The Fall
Moon has possessed me
again. I have become
dervish.
It hints at shedding
the leaves. Flame of
forest wants to glow at noon.
It was a genuine
withdrawl from honeycomb.
You wanted to taste the bitter.
Hexagonal life has lost
the meaning. I am ready
to demolish the path.
Why did the moral
debate start, on
the mothballed book ?
Satish Verma
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