We do not know
who cares for us
live or dead
nor do we know
our end
now or ever
which meeting with whom
is the last
we do not know
when darkness gushes
in from the breach
sky sinks down
as stranger we come
as stranger
we pass
like withered grass
uncelebrated
unmourned, unknown
--R.K.SINGH
Sunday, July 5, 2009
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2 comments:
The last poem is magnificent. Says it all.
cw hawes
Thanks, CW.
R K
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