When life was naught
I was there
When the creatures began
I saw them still
All life did evolve
But I am trap'd
In Endlessness
Once, I was a pure droplet
Clear, a gentle soft drop on the lilies
Called by Him Again
Back to my lost identity
My flock was dark
We travelled wide
Brought transcendent chaos
Droplets of the azure sky.
2 comments:
where is gestapo
where does it end
where is it Baluchistan
it is where does it end
not open it doesn't
not been any rich
where
is it Gaza
it is where
is it Tihar
it is where
Sudan
where Eritrea
where being bombed in Pakistan
in swat it is in Indus river valley
where is it Afghan, Alaska, Vanni, sri lanka, the wasted tiger
is it where it is and where does it end
not in Washington, nor in London
don't end in mecca, Medina or Vatican
where
it's not in the mission
where Barak stopped his
wasted it is
where does it end
not in new york
not end in Haiti, Tehran
some place it ends
some else may be still free
but hungry
eyes blase over
ancient guns
thought of getting back at you from a poem that came to while meeting with ma and a bunch of NGOers i was introduced to by her, they were from Sudan and one was going to Eritrea, a girl who studied at new york: went on to discuss about the current scene around the world in 60seconds (u know what i mean). it was interesting and partially attends to your questions on the identity...
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