Upon a rock so grey I sit and sander my bones
To stand again erect with a heart full of verse
To play long the desires that I dare to feel.
I am human, so will be deaf in anguished tones,
And blind in the dunes of deserts in traverse.
I am born again and again like a holy gyre
Churning elements that elude and still eager
To find essence in what is undone for ages.
Someday, somewhere when am old and retire,
These verses will leave me not but stand
Like a firm soul among the citadel of rages.
A poet is not a paltered piece like the rest
That flickers away with time, but does inspire
Grungy Genres that have lost faith and admire
History so great and guzzled in our books,
So wrongly written with wrath or unseen fire.
I will look high up to every soldier’s crest,
And with valour shall declare this war over.
My men beleaguered under the blue moon
Will someday find a meaning to live and love.
The Soul's Whisper 