Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Creation Of A Myth

When your name
drops in the wish lake
like a golden ring as numen,
I accept my defeat.

Like nanoprints, permeating
in my every poem.

Here I catch a swaying
scent to locate your
home in the jungle of denials.

Till my script is
completed, I will explore
all my options not to forget
you even for once.

Will you make it
easy for me to stop the tortuous
self-flagellation?

Who was better of
us with a magic wand
to turn either into a statue?
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