Random Hearts
play in Drum's Dome
Waiting on
Lyrics to come....
This be the Platform
whence they are Heard,
When none of them
need say a Word.
Random child
There in your
Mummified Tomb,
A Cold Contrast
to Mother's Womb.
As far as you are
from House,
The closer you are
To Home.
The heart's dome is the platform where only feelings like lyrics play the tune and no words are required to know another's sympathies. A cold heart sans love is a sealed existence from where the innocence is to escape to come home to dwell again. We have Mududu, we have......best wishes, arya.......Your words are beautiful..............be born again.......rise like the phoenix from the ashes of dead and angry thoughts.....arya
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what beautiful composition! ! ! ! ! ! ! yes that is the beauty of life....through hard life lessons, tragedy and love we are reborn everyday....into more magnificent biengs. Well done!