Sunday, July 6, 2014

NATIVE LAND



I could breathe thee, over
The lonely sea, and
Inside palpitating heart
Canvassing the lair 
In whisper, surfing the air

When!
From these ashes mine, will
I confound thy native land

And, Life dies in me
Masking my sleep
In eternal dent
Hollow of life

Treasure the groans
And grunt in waves uproar
Perforce the inevitable
Rummaging my remains

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