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Nov 2019
You filter time.
Time filters you.
I catch the words.

The empty bowl
of a fakir betrays the fabric
of life, without seeking.

Mid winter I will ask-
the moon not to freeze.
Some sounds you will not hear.

Tearing the fog, I
wanted to teach you the language
of pain, becoming cold.

Like meteor of
a melting star, you were moving
away faster than light.
Written by
Satsih Verma
119
     ---, shamamama and ---
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