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The Vigil

By Satish Verma | Category :: Poem

Floaters swim in acrid clouds, I watch
myself killed by me, the image was real, oracular

ashen grey, sitting on a sand dune
I listen to the silence of bending and roaring faults,

the life repeats the mistake, possessed, chasing
the wheels, fever rising, the swish of a snake,

time; could not make it, daintly the moon drifts on
the dark contours, ripples of a lake, a flock

of birds turns inland into shadows of chorus
a small city of voices seeks freedom.

By Satish Verma | May 14, 2016 | Category > Poem >Nature | Comments | Views 2066


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