Tale of Honour

close beyond our palm, the line focus
it's direction into the beginning of a
mother's conception

walk down the aisle of the lonely hill,
the cultures dictate what the heart
envision the super spectacle of
tradition the world will tell

dying comes in most precious reborn
as death fancy the glimpse of the night,
where the moment of time fade the
essence of moment of what makes the
end begins

replenish my tears, Rabba Maph Kari,
for life, nay comes in the weirdest
and wise existence, it glows falling
like wind in the desert for a nightfall
call

swept it out the, sweat of blood is
falling down, razed us not on fire ….

“ a poem dedicated to Ms Nirupama
Pathak “

poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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