Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Be.

What’s found now was found then

Never was a time 

That didn’t be.


My now angst was my angst then

As we walked the dust laden roads 

In the sweet mist 

Amid the clamor of feigned truths

And how we walked 

We walked to be.


Farms of gold and green

Mourning the mirth, the fire

The silver of days 


Eyes never shone so brittle

Never was sadness that didn’t be 

Never farther 

Closer than be.


And you held it all together 

Like it meant to be.

Anant Dhavale

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