Loom my thoughts
To weave bed-of-joy
In thy warmth
There I could
Conjure my happiness
In thy gail
Of morning laughter
And summon my chirp
To break the past,
Play with my
Hoary hair grandfather
The clouds with a stick
In Sun's golden streak
The day of my dream, where
No impasse could create
Hatred, lust and
slavery of thoughts
And there, O Lord
May the Sun rise
In all peace and light!
No comments:
Post a Comment