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by Satish Verma Feb 6, 2023 category : Nature, environment / nature
Stay till end of my poem, for dying sun. Howling winds searched my body, my soul when I stood alone. The blue scorpion knows its religion. That was predation. Landfall for hungry. If the blood leaks, the victim sings for moksha. Milking starts. The golden leaves are peeled off from the moon. No night was safe.