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Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.

She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.

Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.

Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
 Apr 2016 Samuel Hesed
Kat
explorers
 Apr 2016 Samuel Hesed
Kat
We are lying together, entwined
As you tell me about that one time
You fell in love with an  explorer.

You tell me about how you both lay side by side,
And with eyes wide, she pointed out to you her favorite constellations
As you marked your favorite constellations of freckles
On the wide expanse of her skin.

You tell me about the mountains you have traversed together;
You tell me your relationship was an uphill battle every step of the way-
But with hope for the future,
You endured.

And then one day,
She got tired of the constant uphill battle.
She got tired of waiting for shooting stars;
She got tired of you.

From then on, your heart was filled with hatred for
adrenaline junkies and explorers.

But love,
You, yourself, are an explorer
With huge hopes and dreams
And your heart on your sleeve.

I can see it in the way your eyes sparkle
Whenever there is a hint of adventure;
In the way you give your heart out freely,
Wishing that one of the places you yearn to settle down in
Accepts you with open arms.

(I still pray for the day
When you'll wish to settle here.

But for the time being,
I shall patiently wait for your arrival.)
 Apr 2016 Samuel Hesed
M G Hsieh
Nobody talks
of love
thrown into a gutter.*

There is no glory in leaves
rotted to mulch,
turned with dirt.
They drain
and clog.

One look begins our pain,
one sweep ends their suffering.

We attend
at all times
a need to strive
and tend our strife.
To clear the heap,
we burn,

return to ourselves in a corridor of light,
and make do with the bareness of our hands.

The mind follows,
the will carries.
We reach

and let go.
Our smoke
glides the current,

for dreams do not die,
only granted
to the passing-by.
Honestly, I don't get your purpose.
While others do.
I perfectly believe you an illness to society.

Intimidating women with threats.
Creating drama and bigger messes.
Trying to represent being a man with weapons of guns, knives within hands.

And attracting ladies trying to do the same.
Within reality , it's a complete shame.
Claiming to represent being a family to the fools that hears you.

While killing another over a color of clothes.
Than crying foul when another rival kills your mother.

Don't wait to your child's killed to leave.
When in truth you should adapt to life and grow up.
The only true gang you have is your father, sister, mother and brother.
Losing hope shatters the soul into pieces.
Notes (optional)
i'm not a slave of compliments.
I won't overdose on injections of racism.
The only addiction i have it of the melanin in my skin.
My heritage is not a sin.
My womanhood has always been the evidence of excellence.
My faith is not a bad habit I need rehabilitation from.
If discrimination was a drug i would be high every day
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