December 23, 2009

Nature's Flute

If a piece of a bamboo tree
With uniform spaces of holes
Can sound a diet to ears in glee,
I too can be whom winds control
An orient flute of humanity
My parted lips and body like pole
Would invite the wind to fly in me
And nostrils aid the lips to tole
To the sounds of eternity
The language of winds would console
When my pitiful state it would see
And reduce my tries and then enroll
Me, at once in its own beauty
Then with time my throat would unroll
Like the bird to its master's gee
And I would hear my lips to knoll
To the moods of infinity

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