The Harvest

David Thorpe Poem Kubili

Winds of change creep
slowly and with caution,
not to arouse suspicion
of those with avarice accounts
from corruption and puissance,
yet the game of hide and seek
of the mountain monastery
is played no longer

The doors are open
to inhale the first flush of freedom,
filling halls with a breeze of dignity,
scraping decayed dust of decades
from mosaic annals, depicting
the oppression by scavengers.
The seeds of potential have been sown.
for the harvest long awaited

 

David Thorpe ©® 2018

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