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Posts Tagged ‘thought’

And we judged the play with our pestered intellect,
But not with the heart that beats through time.
One dream dies, one more is born, a dream we live.
Among propelling prophecies of sultry stones so straight,
There surely will be foliage that will grow and rhyme;
What seeds we sowed, how we watered and hope give
more wings for the dream to lives so more abject,
and undaunted by the flickering thoughts of our race.

Leave now, drop the thought that burns your soul.
Not timid at all, nor meaningless the pursuit is;
Every King dies, every empire falls, victory will brawl
Amid changing thoughts that push the other piece.
The sky is vast, it ought to be for so many dreams
Trade through it, some sail, some wait for the wind.
Walk every step with trust, breathe the air of freedom.
Let every touch heal and smile more till we are home.

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In these desolate hours of an unending night,
I see the moonlit rocks cut into the steps of art.
The steps are in stone, the ones so entrenched
Through the times we lived, in the hours of heart.
Why flicker with fate, why foster nests unknown?
Why tamper the torrid tests of time that moan?

The world we know is gone to sleep, now in dream.
The moments stand altogether stronger in rhyme.
Soul knows no scented evening full of velvet course;
The women, the wine, the literature all look grim.
Freedom, that I seek, is no escape but grow my soul
Into a swan that shall cover the waves of reason.

A distant friend, a beauty almost in faraway land;
Not love, nor treason, but souls that I see in dust,
Make these emotions distant, devoid of the death,
Devoid of barren brazen boasting beats of sound.

I will meet you at some crossroad again and ask,
If it meant sense to have covered with the mask.
Am I insane, induced with engulfing enticed illusion?
Or you were the time that chiseled me into a man?

When I meet you, I will ask!

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Along the sweating air in this bizarre citadel,
There droops a bird on the leafless bough.
There is a known mirage on the path so supple,
There is life among dwelling peasant’s laugh. 

I not see now the devout saints of sulphur,
Nor hear music beyond the curtained door.
In this heat thoughts become lighter and lighter
And vanish vanquished beyond visual amber.

So sensuous, so hidden are the words now,
To spell or to see is the dilemma in hope.
Some friends are lost in this battle of seasons,
Some old ones still wait for me to hop.
There is no lake now, my stream has dried,
Vapours alone see meaning in tests and tow. 

But wait for droplets to fall not far away
And the dying stream to flow fresh again
With smells of earth married to heated air.
With hope shall this generation survive
Through odds of time and tides of pain
To further move our seeds with care?

With hope comes divinity more distinct,
And life gains the true love precinct.
Beyond this unending dream of the stream
The soul journeys through eternity.

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The world is like an oyster
In deep sea that has seen storms;
And we people covered with nacre.
There is no patience among our kind,
There is no dream for the pearl.

There is great dazzle and shine,
For the courage to wait and see.
But our kind is just tough to witness
And seldom listen to the guiding tree.

Patience makes the life in the oyster
Turn into an ever shining pearl.
Our race is for being a witness
And judge not the passing time
But to dream for being valued.
It is better to stay beside the reefs
Six fathom deep and wait for fate
And time to catch than get lost
In the weeds and towering algae.

With time the strongest shield cracks
And the bright truth prevails.
After me child to child will sing this
As our ship of faith and hope sails.

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