Freedom from the strings of this rose
Thorns are sewn together with a bow
Thorns are sewn together with a bow
Brisk is the pace of this land unseen
Fathoms to traverse & Depths to travel alone
Swift as the strengths begin to wither
Frost clinging strong as the icicles gather
The Kingdom of truth yet to reveal itself
The Boredom of sin yet to bereave itself
Smooth as the flow of breeze may be
Shrill as the shriek of the wind would be
Minutes of breathing burrows a glistened smile
Finished with this time dear friend of mine
The light at the end of the tunnel aint visible
The sweetness of another sun still aint recognizable
Tons of sins & still more to come
The rose is what I call life of what to become
Ajay Padattil
25/06/08
No comments:
Post a Comment