Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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What You Were Not

In soundless
landscape, I will meet the
ultimate, waking pain
of understanding.

Back and forth
pillars of strength would fall.
Nothing else will shock me.
Measureless I become.

Do you see a halo
around the moon? She was
the goddess of a
lost songbird.

I want to stop
thinking. I owe you the
holy truth. Life was
no more grainy.
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