Transformation teases of its landfall and its toll.
Can only sit there stone-faced; carry the weight in soul.
Impossible to trace a line, make mark of head or tail;
But even years of steady siege has defining assail.
And so we taste starvation;
Await the trumpets sound.
Attempt to swim in turbulence,
Be bent before we drown.
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Comments1
such a tightly woven work of poetic commentary
with such seamless flow and natural rhythm..
a quenching drink, in a read
thank you! dear Poet
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