Will I find that special sound
of sweet sighing redemption?
I feel it through the winds unwound
like a flag without a nation
I hear yonder muffled cries
I wander beyond their borders
in the weaving of truth and lies
heaves the rhythm of disorders
Blue and pink and a pint of glue
The glowing glee of a life to come
What is deceit and what is true
of meagre talk the total sum
Whisper without me an ear to fill
What comes forth a tongue to twist
Through landscapes I seek to still
As grows stronger my rising fist
Reading of the poem:
Geetha Balvannanathan's Blog - Isis Tratum 