Friday, July 9, 2010

Let me drape this earth
In pure dew drops of morning
In hidden canopies
there begins procession
of a kind
as if it is the end of a world
fire ends in rains of monsoon
and the clouds finished
all what they stored
in coal black barrels
and some one told me yesterday
that the world turn around
me in confines, in chains
and let me see how
when I can take in hand
the freshness of a flower
and the fresh breeze of morning
on my face
where the soft feathers of my dreams
fly above far from a river bank
and oceans flow there
enveloping beautiful horizons
Let me drape this earth
in dream filled dew drops of morning
and let me forget the ash clouds
in procession in plains
of a low edge valley….

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