The Mourn of the Skylark : Every Moon Sets -08
A skylark mourns
Quite a furlong away
May be on the other bank
Beyond the river
Of the conjugal pleasure
Flowing into the sea of voidness.
Or worlds apart
Beyond the mist of separation
That sings unique notes
Notes of broken glasses,
Notes of burnt gardens-
From a flute of death
Carried through the tides
Of dark winter breeze
To the pyre of mourning
The death of my nascent dream
Before its first cry.
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