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The morning rises early
With my heart.
Like a panther yearns
For water and strength,
So does my heart as it
Rises with the morning.
The morning speaks to
The coming events of
Human seasoning,
And breaks the tidal
Waves of existence;
My heart bounces off
The racks, fleeing with
The speeches of the
Morning... breaking,
Weaving... stretching out!
It's done, it's done,
Yes, my heart is done!
No comfort comes with
Thoughts of breaking;
Day, nor the desires of a
Dying day... just pans,
And pans and pans... hmm!
There’s a bridge across
That little river yonder.
It reaches forth to
Take my heart across
The cajoles of time,
Of space, of seasons...
My heart wakes with
The morning and dreams
Of sweetness, of a
Thousand roses plucked,
Of vale and gardens divine!
My heart is done with themes
Of endearing nectars and
Songs of celebration...
Tough to accept at first,
But fervent dream come
True at last...at last...
Yes, at last!
My heart roosts with
The waning day with
Smiles like unending
Splashes from the
Little river yonder!
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Dumletam
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