It is a song
it has composure,
not in disarray
it is a wonder
in harmony, with
the old, infirm, poor
see kindness there
the gods reside there
Once as a child
an old man with
wrinkled creases, bereft
of soul walked up
to me,
He said:” Love is ancient
what is fame?”
Kindness, god-gifted song
you are an ancient
racking pain.
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