Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Other Name Of Truth

I shut the door,
unwanting any exit
from the choked cries.

Like solar winds will
become predatory searing all
the tender buds.

No moon water
will wash the face of
root questions asking healing
replies.

I will not leave
you alone on the burning deck.
A dark night
follows the sparks to give
birth to a moon.

An exoplanet was
ready to go into smoke
if you don't melt.
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