The murmur of your heart
Don't they tell you that the bells toll
And that you've done your part.
Vitality was your name,
Your eyes had vision, the chalice of life,
But wheels of time dragged away your fame,
Your very existence is rife with strife.
The graveyard of every broken dream,
And the wilderness of many an uttered cry,
Your life, a tumbling twig in a flooded stream
Ah! look at you, aging yellow bones, brittle and dry.
The king a pauper, in exile in Burma,
Some call it fate while he calls it karma.
No comments:
Post a Comment