Overly possessing the karma,
you sail in meditation.
Does creation tag along
the destruction of self?
The chain persists. You leave
the theater. The ancient
voice gives the soft resoundings.
Something was always left
to say. The neophyte will
not speak. The arms
Take hold of the window.
Some light will have deep
penetration. Edge was very
sharp. Pack up your belongings.
Satish Verma's Other Poems
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