bardia (bardia) wrote in poetry_pill_,
bardia
bardia
poetry_pill_

Not ever
Oh, not ever
Will it come
To an end:
The drum of,
The song of
The Giver of
Life.

We come
To the magic water.
Your word
Goes over the water
With the water bird.

Oh, not ever
Not ever
Will it come
To an end:
The drum of,
The song of
The Giver of
Life.

Your flowers, this earth:
Do they go
Like shadows go
When we go
To the Ghost Place?

Oh, not ever
Not ever
Will they come
To an end:
The drum of,
The song of
The Giver of
Life.

The good trees, the old:
Under the branches of,
Among the roots of
The ancient cottonwoods
Will we wake?

Oh, not ever
Not ever
Will it come
To an end:
The drum of,
The song of
The Giver of
Life.
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