And Little Babes shall become Old Men..Anew
I. i come in the morning. Singingly.
I mourn in the coming.mingling me.
I greet you darling.you are me. my me. that haunts me dreamingly.
Life never lasting rushingly. split souls rush by fleetingly..
What .Awaits are memories of. love and. Loved and.
Lived too. less.
And.The Final dream at dusk finally kisses the Regal lips of the dreamer at dawn...
So.Be.It.
Amrita Valan
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