A Potter’s Song

i hate mourning over my dead spirits

but i feel lucky that death comes to me every day

i loathe this silence of sleeping men

but then, it is better than the noise yesterday

alone, upon this hill i stand, watching

the golden rays that strike upon my face

this loneliness, i try hard to fight

but the bliss of solitude, keeps me at bay

so much to see, so much to learn

i just flow with the wind of time

mysteries – confusing,

can be habituated when revealed

and once you start seeing things clearly,

you will never have to peek!

(August 7, 2008)


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