Sunday, April 24, 2011
Never is the land fair when it rains,
For raining submits to the path that hurts;
Desks of teachers make teachings,
The rain is there to smother the rich in learning.
Open the thoughts we provide with a silver key,
The rain of thinking shall access thoughts.
The ghosts of the night hide the men’s laughter,
As the rain strikes hard on the heads and arms.
Never is the land a selling-ground for thinkers,
For thinkers carry substances, not just ideas and facts;
We are the children of wisdom, the wise ones,
Forever in conflict with those on our path and trek.