you strike back with ardor.
The end was not near. It
was only the beginning of it.
There were many questions
about life. Without mincing any
words, you draw a circle
and sit outside of it.
There was no natural answer.
You teach yourself about
the foundation, from the book
of falls. The breach of trust has a glint
of dagger.
In the hour of betrayal you
drink the cup of Conium, to
describe the ascending palsy.
Step by step, drop by drop.
Why death was hesitant to
shake with you?
Satish Verma
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