Satish Verma

So my absentism will prevail 
over presence; 
I will talk to you in space 
between the moments 
of autumn red 
when nothing else was moving. 

In classical pursuit, I straignten 
the equation and we understand 
the complexities of life, and agree to depart 
unlooking at the moon, crossing 
the river of silence, with no blueprints 
on hands. 

The random pain will eat the words 
like a vanGogh painting.

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