a poem by Satish Verma, India

Quotes fail to wake on-
neat thinking. Truth
was going to a trial.

I will speak less
for ultimate, what we are
heading for. I was-
my own god.

At the start of the poem
you will find a swastika.
With curved arms, I was rowing a boat
under the moon.

A nose dive of a
shooting star still haunts me.
Where were you, when the
sky was burning?

A sacred prayer binds us both
waiting for an angel
to tie us apart. We will
watch, but go blind.

The hunger keeps the fire going.

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