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The gryphon lined it's nest with such
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But treasured most the deepfelt words
Sung from the hearts of men

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A Man without a Mission


Every day was as
     The day that went before...
          He rised, he washed,
               He went to work
     And returned home through
          the same door.

His sense of pleasure numbed
     Having experienced them
          Many a time,
By and by he succumbed
     Passionate he could not become
          Nor experience the wonder sublime.

The days went on,
     And on he went -
          A man without a mission
Like the moon going round
     To an orbit bound,
          With no hope, nor ideal vision.

To break the cycle
     Is not enough
          For another cycle may start;
Though all comes to pass
     And nothing can last, we are
           of the universe cycle, a part.

O how to break free?
     Well don't ask me!
          I too am in this like you.
Find one who is free
     For then you may be
          A sun, a light ever true.

			Bhupinder Singh
			January 31, 1998
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**This work is copyrighted by Bhupinder Singh.
(b2singh@calum.csclub.uwaterloo.ca).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**


Cast Away


Adrift on the sea
Left to float away
Tossed by the currents

The years of hurt beat down upon my face like pelting rain
The salt water of my tears parches my thirsty soul
Did you ever really want to know me ?
You cared for me out of promises to the dead
Yet you were willing to sacrifice the living,
          draining the blood of my tender youth

Sitting on the step outside the house...
          Oh Lord, do you know I'm here ?
You did not trust to let me in while you were gone
It was not my house.....not my home

So many days, turned into so many years
Not once did you ask or care what was in my heart
The bitterness of your self-imposed moral obligation
          ....filled the days with a strained horror
The quietness of my pillow and the watchfulness of my Shepherd
          ....brought the only relief from despair

It was not my house...not my home

But now I have built my own

          In past years I would haved called it " Hurt "....

Now I call it..... " Freedom "

Cast Away

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**This work is copyrighted by D.L. Spencer
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Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**


Untitled

I grasp at the handrail like I do reality,
desperate for support and afraid of falling.
Weakness flows through me where
once there was strength,
and I smell the perfume of eternity.

His eyes well up with dispair as he looks at shards,
the shattered fragments of his hopes and dreams
strewn on the floor before him.
An entropic harmony pervades
the sable stability of his existence.

What do you see but his wild hair like a puppet of the breeze
and the trembling, sweaty-palmed hands that cover his face?
Can you sense past the subtle frailties
and shortcomings of his corporeality
and see the beauty ethereal?

I know the raging blaze residing in the helpless formless spirit,
a dark inferno of sanity consuming the very essence of being.
But will perserverence dawn and
shine against the blind acquiescence
or sink into a mad elation?

A resolute conformity occurs within us all, a subtle tyranny of soul
that corrodes the light of ingenuity and the salvation of creativity.
We all search for something deep
inside the humanity and humility of another.
With finding comes euphoria.
With failure, just the end.

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**This work is copyrighted by DyrkHawke.
(DyrkHawke@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**


Silver Lining

What is it about you?
I can't tell, really
think it's nothing much, actually
just about everything that you do
the way you smile
truly I know now
the feeling of my heart melting
the sound of your giggles
truly that be the sound of bliss
and joy
the child-like ways that you lose not
unlike many sellouts out there
who lose themselves as they grow
ironic that with wisdom comes despair
might that be wisdom at all?
Not you...
capricious joy without childish ignorance
and mellow wisdom without a sigh
sigh to the sights that make you cry
smile on, she says
seeing a silver lining always
or could it be
that her smile be the silver lining
dancing over every cloud
sprinkling warmth, joy
your laughter
heard through rainstorms
drown away all despair
I can hear it now
that warm, giddy sound
of joy and love......

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**This work is copyrighted by Woei Hern
(woehern@pl.jaring.my).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**


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