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Begins to reel,
the dusk,
down the street.

The grey moon waits,
solemnly, for the
music of earth to start.

There is enigma-
in dark. You see
the inside of a shut house.

Like the stone
eyes reading the heliograph
of shrunken gods.

Plunged into a gorge
your eyes, to find
the secret of a fall.
Satish written by

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