The sun heated our palms
Appearing like a mirage
Then soon gone
You called true name
Never heard still the same
Guiding you through walls
A ghost’s hollow de le carte hall
You tore a piece of your shawl
Handing it to the brave
Who remained unknown, calm
Amidst the madness which falls
Sometimes upon on all
If you claim your key
To life mastery we will be waiting
Only to know, to agree
With truth that you envision
And only few can ever see.
Christopher Baird 2011 ©
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