satishverma

Without Stopping

Facing the music 
of intrigues, the cuckoo 
is perturbed. 

Very formal, very gentle. 
There was not enough time 
to prove that you were― 
not god. 

The snow fence was broken. 
Drifters tend to winter 
the counting of old coins. Ruins 
become beautiful. A deep 
ocean invites for a solo dive. 
I open my Gita and read the 
dilemma of the Sun. 

All the facts are rigged. 
Nobody was going to sink 
the lids in tears. 

A moon-blind song bird 
wants to reach 
his home.



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