From day to night time unfurls,
as the sun behind horizon curls.
Circles once and comes again,
and proves nothing goes in vain.
The beating of drums tell,
that a war is raging on.
Some with times stood or fell,
and some in tides forever gone.
Now remains - a deserted stream,
that marks track in only sands.
The enlightened travel with a dream,
on the way making faithful bands.
Prasenjit©1997-2012
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