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Tranquility

Holding the thought before it is born. Let the void become pregenant first- and it starts raining. It was a serene melting point, when I accepted the price of giving away. I will not take any mantra, any hand. A perfect blending with unknown; to put back the sea in a bowl. Even the cloud will enter into a blade of grass. No faith. No ritual. I believe in roving dust, which makes the stars, the blaze, and the brilliant light. Satish Verma

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Book: Shattered Sighs