Robbed―
of my aloneness, by
an army of ravens―
thoughts. I
meditate and weave
your face―
in muse. My
journey begins on a
mist scent as the moon rises.
What more you
want, than the silence,
before the bell tolls.
Satish Verma
of my aloneness, by
an army of ravens―
thoughts. I
meditate and weave
your face―
in muse. My
journey begins on a
mist scent as the moon rises.
What more you
want, than the silence,
before the bell tolls.
Satish Verma
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