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Poems of Radhamani Sarma

A Deadwood I Was

I was a dead wood
drifting along the spooky path
of maze and intrigues,
the scary foam of waves surge
a whirl of surreal in me,
tossing me up and down,
the mariner’s compass,
holds a dumb charade
at the moment of travesty,
Your Advent is The
Enlightenment of Beacon.
Halo glows ever.

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