Even though dead, through the buried deep,
Your fragrance still brims the winds,
The springs come to beg inspiration
And the rains to quench their age-old thirst,
Many come to wail their woes
And go back embedded to peace.
This stilled detonation that lurks around you
Will explode all those who seek.
Your body has ashed to earth,
Your breath no longer flows.
Then what is this compelling tug
That encroaches and dissolves the silly “ego”?
What could be this immortal spirit
That fetches these people from far away?
In ensuing days, I begin to know
From conversing voices
Around your grave.
They say,” you were a patriot who loved all the same,
You were a true martyr to love!”
- From the book: MUSINGS OF THE AWAKENING SOUL
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