Poem: For the saviour
24 09 2008The man stepped in to the land of the unknown,
Without a trumpet being blown,
As bright as the spring morning,
Fresh like the morning dew,
Determined,
Like the silent wind.
He is:
The prophet’s warrior,
who can only become braver.
toiling hard in a barren land,
like a sun-burnt farmer.
trying to draw portraits,
On palm leaves floating on water.
And as the bright moonlight kissed his aching limbs,
He watched the night entwining with the dawn,
Waiting for the golden light to embellish him
In a land,
Where a handful of sand,
Can get you the wand.
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Categories : Poem
