THE INVOCATION (OF THE GOOD)

“The long line of hills ahead

lay bare, broken and dead,

But a tiger had called in the night,

And as the sun rose in light;

A gentle, whispering, scented breeze

stirred the sparse grass and scraggly trees 

 

Outside the small thatched hut,

The old man sat on matted earth,

In the village, a child wailed

as puffs of cloud in blue sky sailed

 

Men hung in animated clamour,

Waiting for the liquor soon to gather,

Daily delivered as the politician’s tribute,

Paid for the votes that lay in distribute;

The old man felt tired like never before,
Time bled now in an ever festering sore,
But hadn’t the tiger called in the night ?
And as the sun rose in light;
Hadn’t  a  whispering, scented breeze
stirred the sparse grass and scraggly trees ?”
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