Thursday, March 22, 2018

A YARD



How little I live
to jade a meaning 
out of this short life

Every time I see
Mystical alluring of the senses 
A slight tinge dwarf my pain 

Many occasions pass 
Looking straight to skies
Every stars wait sentry to its calling

I may not be able to attend 
The making of my own cemetery
But will take a deaf furthering forward

How little I know
the measure of vastness 
Not a length comes out of its darkness

How limit, accords;
to wane my thoughts

How little it becomes of a yard 

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