In Praise Of Unknowing Poem by Satish Verma

In Praise Of Unknowing



The unthinkable,
has happened.
I am still alive.

After the harvest
moon, there were―
many aspirants,

to reach the Mars,
when a lynx left the
pug marks on their chests.

First snow went
deep in asylum.
All gates were locked.

Thursday, December 15, 2016
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