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K Balachandran May 2014
Written by a failing hand, shaken by grief,

on a dark display board of time, perhaps distorted a bit

I 'll be just a remembrance, later, fighting an ongoing  battle

with the hands of life that constantly erase,

marked as a doleful couplet, not easily forgotten,

a sad verse that forces one to contemplate

before falling in to sleep night after night

threatened by many unsettling thoughts.


A seed carried along, by the spirit of my ancestors

from a purple dawn, in distant past

an unbroken chain in DNA strand,

which dad with a smile tied within me,

love, dreams, chants for peace, unfailing silver light

love for an immortal tune that always rings in my psyche,

a primordial sound that creates reverberations.

I am a memory my sons commune within loneliness

on a day in future and looks out through

the window, to hear the wind hum along

in an unknown land, a flash of light

that helps to move through coagulated darkness,

look! there appear few drops of tears

on the corners of those eyes.

— The End —