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The Kiteflier
And as I heave these strings
closer into my stagnancy
the more they break away
and set off farther from
my cold and distant musing
I watched their ponderous flight
as I mar my fingers in trying
to hold their vestiges together
but all is sullen into futility
As they drive past the clouds -
leave the fringes of my horizon
and unyeild to all my veerings
I am enthused to take flight
and let go of all reveries
But now that I lost them,
these mangled hand is empty
I am taxxed with derision
and blame is upon these fear
enshrouding my entity
When the kiteflier managed
to make all his kites fly
to the point of unfettering them
that he lost all his kites,
then who remains of him?
and when can he break the strings
that kept him tethered to the grounds?
poem
by
Norman Santos
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