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Rebirth

The hour the clocking stilled,
Birthed the space the spirit sovran.
The yoke of life's heaviness broke,
And set free the spirit from the survivor's creed.
Rivers stream down desert faces,
As green animas mantra dirges.

So eerie the isle to the elbowroom.
Yet, a boulevard for the ready groom,
From whence all new a creature born.
Tick-tock,
Tick-tock,
The ticker talks,
Peachy fresh,
Or fecal pit;
All doth shed the squalid slip.

Some, go like wind in the dust.
Others, breathe their last which never last.
In the night they fall,
And in the kingdom rise.
Anew risen,
And married to the cord.

All we seek are hidden, deep in our temples within.
In we crawl and our vital selves we are.



by Samuel Kwesi Manlah

 Posted by: Jet Alan.


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quot-img-1The aging process has you firmly in its grasp if you never get the urge to throw a snowball.

By: roylexi.com quot-img-1
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