With pace does darkness conquer light,
when mounts the sun the dying toll,
spied an aura grim my wistful sight,
for had poisoned all, a single bowl;
...
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touching and soul stirring a very nice write indeed.... But, soul a machine that does not cease, yet it fools us from our time of birth; pass on, move towards the restful peace, but, secluded stays its pensive worth; loved it keep penning...we will have a very nice poet indeed...a poem high on poetic merit.! cheers sat
But, soul a machine that does not cease, yet it fools us from our time of birth; ... amazing poetry....indeed a great poem full of sorrows & sufferings...i hav'nt no more words to appreciate it...well done