Talking of earthly heart,
stuck in a mire,
I believe that the guilt of not building the road
was genuine.
Beyond the sad realization
the role of witness was futile.
Life had become an apprentice of deceit
spreading out chessboard on small pretexts.
Without accepting the will of god,
failing to protect
the lines on the faces,
was it an intentional suicide ?
Collecting the fragments of sorrow
I do not want to complete the picture
I shall soon have to be connected
to the corpse of time.
SATISH VERMA
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