“Fate cheats”, they
would say,
And yes it did to
them
To me,
To us
And few others.
What prophesy has to
unfold
In a silence of our
life’s movement;
What almighty
directed the innocence
Of greedy convictions
Of thousand souls that
abandoned
The land that they
were born
Give birth to stupid
children of curiosity.
Into their departure
from their cradle
Dwells my hopeless
hopes
That preaches me
their perpetuity of departure.
Of one parents
Of one family
We were the children
Of the country
Yet we are no more
ones,
As time goes by, our
distance lengthens
And the road we are
connected with
Loosens into stretchable
long one.
When at times, I miss
those souls
Whose history no one
wants to read,
I look for them into
imaginations
And there they
gather:
Into family
Into groups
And into hopes.
Thus our distance
fades
And they are born to
the nations again.
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