Outsider's Dust Poem by Satish Verma
Outsider's Dust
Being alone it was a sacred
crime. Migrant words had reached
terranova. Heart-wrenches begins.
Will there be resurrection
of heritage? Riding an eagle a black-
bird was doing nothing to reach anywhere.
I will communicate to you
my infinity of pain. The spiders
would never leave the webs.
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4/29/2024 10:14:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
