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Not A Dream
Imperfect mating.
I am lurching forward―
in a chaotic

There was no divinity
in your sinless sprinkling.
A timeless death was
the only riposte to ephemeral queries.

A lif-size God stands
sentinel outside the museum.
Only the mortal were
etched on the walls.

A pygmy cycas has bloomed
after a decade. I have come back
home to collect―
my belongings of last life.

By satishverma

© 2019 satishverma (All rights reserved)


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