In Our Own Temple Poem by Satish Verma
In Our Own Temple
Between direct and
indirect lies futurism. How
to take on the incredible?
Will you leave my
hand? I asked the scented wind.
In sanctuary god takes turns.
You speak via eyes. How
to live in sanctum -sanctorum
without dying?
Saturday, November 18, 2023
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8/29/2026 6:29:59 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
