This song seeks
The grasses, not men,
This song seeks
Earth’s end
Winds without body,
Rocks without soul
This song seeks
Things, not beings, seeks
Of time, seasons; of place
The city, the cold mountain,
The lifeless moon,
This song,
This song in want
Of feeling, form; of life, seeking,
Of lust, anger; of love
Nothing at all.
This song stands restless
Stamping
It’s hoof in the dust.
And its mane – dry hair
On its nape, bristles
And crackles,
And its tail flicks away
All tiredness.
Look at it
This song
-A shiver in the knee,
In the flank,
The thigh-
Is braced
For the last long journey
For it is saddled in kinship’s leather
And the horseshoe
That comes away never
Is hammered and nailed
Into the sole firmly,
Lonely
Lonely
Lonely
Lonely
This song forever.
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1 comment:
love your work mr saral
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