in a surge

pathmaker is breaking stones,
gentle wind blows over dusty road
The prince clad in cashmere
steps out of the chariot
Alien to the world strayed
with a golden harp in hands
Like the night with starry vigil
seeing him with head bent low
Melody breaks, mind is filled
with vague sadness
the heart is again clamorous
he says “art thou for real”

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4 thoughts on “in a surge

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