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Moon Child

Blessed dying
like a fading moon-
with no watermark.

A candle's flame
makes a hole in your shaking hand.

Skids off- on the
unpaved dirt road, a sleep catcher.

Climbing on moon shaped
rocks for the final jump.

Comes like a throwback
dialogue, what you did not say.

I will go in the wings now.
It is your turn to come
on the stage.

A nameless baby was born
on paper. It has
become an epic.
Satish written by

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