Sometimes a river,

 a current, an ache,

 wave of wide ocean,

 dark rippling lake.


Sometimes unending,

often forgot,

unties in a moment

the Gordian knot.


Oftentimes fearful

sword held overhead,

defines every moment

in fear of the dead.


Sometimes a love song

 soft on spring breeze,

blown to bright autumn,

rustling through leaves.



Dhaka 2015

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