I woke up ruminating about it
Whether it is the expected
Or the experience of the past
Bitter to release
...
We are the children
We are not of the same root
We are bolted in one
We are locked in guns
...
Light...
Camera...
Then the root
Holding the stick
...
The two
Came from two
Never from the same pot
The One in the Two
...
A brightly faced one
With lovely gait to match
Loaded with pains
...
Every mind
When it is tender
When 'T' is with 'een'
Fazed
...
Tarry to the top
Travel the lots of few
Taught by the white headed
Who have been to the top
...