A solitary moon rises
behind the seven veils
unattended by stars and clouds
between yes and no
desiring nothing
turns back through the centuries.
The religion to kill
refuses to stare at the tainted fatality
lying sprawled on the burdened earth
splattered red.
Criminal divinity of the blood
bares the undone creation.
Seed money comes again
into dead bubble.
Cup of sorrow is filled again.
Satish Verma
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