Between the fading child and the surfacing man is the pulse of hope.*


Hear the oath of the waning child

And the vow of a struggling man,

They were fastened on this shell

For two decades and a year.

They shared the same eyes of loneliness

Behind the smirk against all pain.

They felt the earth’s diverse beats

With the same feet.



They mourned the history

Of  a clan driven away, divided for years.

And carried the crown

Of both curse and blessing.

Sins of the past,

The hunters they run from.

The punishment of today,

Their gift of endless battles.

And they reach out to the fleeing tomorrow

As atonement for the olds and the littles.



They weave at night from the strings of tears,

They spin at day from the  orbs of bubbles.

They long for their knees to fall in concession

But it all ends in a prayer

As the distant faces of kin

Supplicate on them through their smiles.



Inner voice,

Higher voice,

Swirling on them.

They speak of never faltering.

For us the other dilutes

And the other projects

They will mold in to one.



Soon they will find

Their union

on me.