satishverma
The Absolute
Category: /General/
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Keep me in the last 
chapter of the book
you have not written.
Let the end come
of a story written on
the sands of time,
with handprints.
An old hill walks
to meet the river on fire.
When hands tremble
to tie the knot.
As I reach near
the sunset, a slice of moon
cuts my wrist, to let
the poem be born again.
A boneless assault,
a tearfull withdrawl.
How we will remember
the anniversary?
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