Amitabha
Peace on to the early morning wind
greetings from dawn in its rise
Following the train down to the trenches
in search of daily ends
in queues aligned and distorted
all hustle to come with a smile.
Many will go; some won't be back.
It's the reality of the making of a man.
In his strength, he shall feed
in this feed his freedom
freedom from the pain of no feed
freedom from the shackles of poverty
He gives his vigor to black
So he rests at grey
It's a market place.
At some point, all must go home.
Leaking_Penn
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