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Saṃsāra

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Golden orb resting in her azure nest.
She smiles at her children of Earth;
Her molten-warm rays pierce the windows of
A man in a train halfway home.
He taps his feet in time;
His eyes drift towards the hands of
A wrist-watch, delicate instrument.
Silently ticking with the clinking of gears;
Whiling away until the train arrives in
The city of a thousand kindred hearts.
Whose cast-iron dress is torn with the wear of centuries;
A dress under whose folds hides
A beggar-man, crying for alms,
Drifting amongst the maddening crowd,
Always finds a few extra crumbs to give
A pigeon with ruffled grey feathers.
Struts and frets upon the pavements,
Desperately scavenging to feed the
Golden orb resting in her azure nest.



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