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Tale of Freedom
Mourning own ashes,
Sorrowing over freedom,
Long-awaited and wholly missed,
The shooting star did seek
Redemption of existence;
To redeem the tale of freedom,
Much remembered, long-awaited.
To the fallen star spoke thus
The configured multitude,
The fixed stars of high heavens;
Reeking of self-pity.
The stars spoke thus:
O Shooting star, burnt and bygone,
Star-dust you quit,
Oblivious of bonded freedom.
Boundless freedom you chose,
A fallacy though at length to be.
To the fallen star spoke thus
The configured multitude,
The fixed stars of high heavens:
O Shooting star, burnt and bygone,
Wide wilderness you chose,
Only to stagger,
Unaware of the glory of a footway;
Destination it fetches,
Foreshadowing it all along;
Freedom it holds,
As bonded to goal.
But boundless freedom you chose,
A fallacy though at length to be.
To the fallen star spoke thus
The configured multitude,
The fixed stars of high heavens:
O Shooting star, burnt and bygone,
In star-dust you did see not,
A composition often illegible,
An inclusive poetry,
Not without you.
So, exclusive freedom you chose,
A fallacy though at length to be;
When life was to abound
In freedom inclusive,
Bonded and destined,
Bonded to configuration prospective,
Destined to creation unforeseen.
poem
by
Bhanu Padmo
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