The Name
In a language that the mother of all my mothers spoke
I bear you a gift from the filthy muddy stream,
coloured in the design of the ivory sky
It follows the sun
From morn to dusk.
A slow dance in the wind
In curved and a slender neck
The only journey it will ever have .
Purest of them all
That rise from the water
In a shape of a single drop
Innocent,
Yet tainted by words that need to collaborate
I give you my name
The name of all names.
From my core
The universe took form
From deep with me
The creator took his first breath
Copyright © Sitabz Garg | Year Posted 2018
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