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NewbornWhat grace that comes about from this humid light deepest? Beauty nearest to my heart, once a seed planted on soil kissed, fertile furrows that line along my soul.Newborn
What perfection that alights on my worthless feeble palm? Joy that caresses the mortal wounds, exposed to cruelties begotten by time, by enemies that seek my own demise.
What bliss in plenty come to pour from this endless dotted skies? A newborn day that rises from afar, over plains that reek with common envy, warm embrace from angelic guests.
What sound, what hymn, what w
by ~bayen
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