O' the weary tree!
Never ever call such a 'clarion call'
Drain my all to feed thy ALL!
It hurts the ruts out of my bones.
The passing away is not meant for any breath
As long as vapid and pale rejuvenate in green vale.
Such is not the plight
Whose all is light
Behold! The first drop of light has come
To photosynthesize the greenery out of you
Brighter ever brighter
The glory bash in thy azure
Please, don't grudge the trudge
Priceless thy essence, priceless thy song!
No comments:
Post a Comment