Oh hope! Thou secreted peace
Or cavernous anguish
Is there no nomadic course of elegance
That leads away from thee
No circuit sage of all the path
Descried by cunning men
To cringe thee of thy sacred prey
Advancing to thy den
So give me back to death
The death I never feared
Except that it deprived of thee
and now, by life deprived
in my own grave I breathe
and estimate its size
Its size is all that Hell can guess
and all that Heaven was
Still own thee
Still thou art
What surgeons call alive
Though slipping -- slipping I perceive
A brilliant piece Bhuwan! tears for the children and disgust for the world of ignorant mankind who have yet to learn how to live!
Reviewed by the phantom pheonix (Reader)
Reviewed on February 7, 2003
I agree that this is so tragic and the picture is so heartwrenching yet so well placed with this poem this is another fine example of your artistic genius at work great job!!
Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
Reviewed on February 7, 2003
What a tragic picture.
" and now, by life deprived
in my own grave I breathe.."
Fitting lines to go with it. This is truly a well written work. Now, if we could but change the outcome....
These song lyrics and art are tales, tides and twinkling lights - tunes telling stories of warmth and sun, city and sand, paths that lead, and the coins we can keep in the Karma Bank. Spirit's been bypassed for sorrow, dreaming of a better tomorrow .
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You have been blessed with your words.
excellent write
Chrissie
You touched my heart
So touched my heart
Love Peg
This is so much more important than oil and the big dudes with their toys.
When did we lose our perspective?
Love and peace,
Susan
Outstanding write and picture.
Nancy
" and now, by life deprived
in my own grave I breathe.."
Fitting lines to go with it. This is truly a well written work. Now, if we could but change the outcome....
~E
Love & Peace,
VeeJay