Sunday, March 04, 2007

At the cross skies

I know not whither I came from
Nor whither I need to go
Yet trust He's sure to show
My destiny, as may suit his whim.

2 comments:

acwo said...

nice tree
acwo
http://tytka.blogspot.com

menakasury said...

Withered I stand.
With sores all along,
Waiting for what
I' ll never know

Feathered you are!
Fly away from here !
Far from this place where
fairy mountains wait
For a song of Keats
From you just now
To melt and flow like Ganges.