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The Eternal Quest

You cast doubt, on the definition. Gods play with words, like winged fruits, Man becomes the spawn of destiny. Sparrows were flying out. I will watch? the window closed. A slant of light withers away. I am writing my poems in dark. The vintage rings under the eyes, will retrieve the lost meaning of truth, from the ruins of time. I will again start my pilgrimage. Satish Verma

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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