Slaves Of The Earth Poem by Ayni Poet
Slaves Of The Earth
Kneeled in the sunlight,
Men of various heights and castes
Crawl to work on the dry soil,
With wounded hands,
Bodies in pain and sorrow,
For baskets full of fruits
And cities lost in darkness.
Poor souls, poor spirits
Have made the Earth their Sun,
A source of light and guidance
In a syncopated, dreadful existence,
They are enslaved by confusion,
Estranged to their Original face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/10/2024 4:58:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This has an esoteric polish to it which I find engaging.