Saturday, September 26, 2015

Two Words Comments

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Dew is to you remained,
viscous drops of the herbs
braid is entwined with the earth,
thrown up are his hands.
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Liza Sud
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Daniel Brick 07 September 2016

I read this poem because I did not know you at the time you wrote it. But in fewer than two weeks after you posted this poem, I did meet you and came to know, and that has made all the difference between then and now. Are we chess pieces as in Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat pushed randomly across a board by uncaring hands, or are we creatures lovingly moved by gentle hands to the place meant for our well being? Is this a difficult question for you to answer? !

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