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Shivam Singh Poem
When i am yet of this world
understand me as i ought to be
believe in me as i should be,
and when i become of the afterlife,
bury me in satin my friend,
do not burn me....from your thoughts,
as i yet wish to live from the underground,
as this is all i would have lived for.
And if you do burn me,
let my ashes fly with the easterly winds,
so that i may yet live again,
wander aimlessly over the sands of grain...
and feel the scents of homely joy,
like almighty's beloved toy.
Copyright © Shivam Singh | Year Posted 2014
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