Somnolent truth waking as if in strife,
The dawn breaks into light from dark,
Birds welcome it from nearby park,
And in my life's sky, red-blue rife,
A freshly tender green leaf sprouts.
I hope to harvest soon ripe shoots
If my hope wakes from night-long mute,
And in my heart takes up firm roots,
Should my sleepy heart finds its voice
To be in touch with love-tinged joys,
I hope to harvest ripened fruits.
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Musings | 18.02.2017 |
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