Thursday, July 18, 2013

A drizzling morn, for you, before a journey...

A drizzle like
The morn carries you
And those drops on leaves and grass
Like drops of dew on your eyelashes
me to You carry...

Before the journey to the wilderness
me sings You
And you perhaps me...

For the streets look pretty wet
And the droplets hanging at iron gates
Reflect beauteous You...

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The State Funeral

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