Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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The Genius

Water has the wisdom,
the bones may not agree.

No commentary today. There was no
eternal friend or enemy.
Listen to your breath, your heart.
No qualms. Hands are not mine.

Charcoal. A voiceless man
wants to write, something on the snow.
The cold-eyed moon will watch.

The chimney's soot, gets buried
under the white sheet, ice.

In holy land. You have come to
pray, to wipe out the nose-bleed.
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