Wednesday, December 5, 2007

WHILE THE NIGHT STOPS….

The red tuft rises on the grass,

The wind is making up his mind,

The firefly is itching for news..

A flame is all that we must find.

Radical changes are to occur

The voices uphold my stand –

The flame will soon begin to flicker,

And the spark will be lit in another land.

The rooster prophesizes in the dark,

The grass murmurs a new name

We’ve got to keep the eyelids still,

We’ve got to see the colours of the flame….

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