Born among clouds, flowing like mists
a round basket will not founder in the eddies,
silver shoots of dawn will not find way to the grass
at the foot of the hill; a jeep stands there, a man in uniform
ready to go at war; a child well built runs barefoot, so assured;
Coffee shall seem the world, red little paths deep into them,
so deep that the men's laugh drinking toddy is hardly borne,
only the joy of a whirlpool, another new rain comes up.

06/13/2010

Author's Note: Inspired from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeMqeO9gxcQ

Posted on 06/13/2010
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