Ever since born,
Wearing an Armour
A sword in hand,
A shield in the other,
Fighting hurdles,
Serpents disguised in saints,
No time to rest
No time to contemplate
No friends at arms length
And enemies are tired-less
Or are they all
Draped in the suits,
Lost in a mist
Fate and time are making love...
Who know who is who
"Friend or foe!"
Echo calls again and again
Conch shells blowing
Wild or civilized
Life is montage
Or a mirage
Or else a old piece of forgotten photo
Life is a joke
Looking out from
Scattered broken pieces of mirror.
3 comments:
Beautiful, really, really, beautiful.
The poem consistently, from the first word to the last, awed me. The last stanza was especially noteworthy. It seemed like philosophy in a child's voice; depth in content, sweetness in portrayal.
the warriors are dying or will soon be dead.
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