Plummeting

by Satish Verma

The padded words
perdured the fall of factuality
into the gaping maw of untruth.

The barriers start
crumbling for stilts
but the alley leads to a jungle of tales.

The manipulation walks
on the frozen lake of eyes.
Blue shadows move underneath to

find the door. You spend
whole life to locate the dock.
The old sea and man drift in dark.

Only a seagull flies
in morning fog to trace
the sun, halted in clouds.

15-Aug-2013

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