or sign in with e-mail
by Satish Verma Aug 14, 2022 category : Nature, environment / nature
There was something between the lips. You will not recite my name. A muted word? becomes a psalm at execution. There was no crowd to witness the grace. If I prepare a book of all my defeats, would you write obituary. The antiquities had become alive. This was the beauty of lunacy. And the saint was dead without meeting his god.