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Sun 16 Jan, 2005 01:02 am
I notice a land, yesterday
in exotic yields and picturesque terrain,
having that gift of youthfulness
gradually withering away in time
like frozen water in a broken cistern,
trickling to present from future
ah
with attention.
Change
though pure and inevitable
by Westerners' grade -
a curse, degeneration; and a time for redress,
this event glides from the hairline
onwards by an invisible painter,
portraying yesterday's realities as today's desires.
Why, why have we created this fiend,
that disguises behind digits and reveals in
dissatisfaction?
For each reality lives in was, for Life Was!
By Paul Andrew Bourne, BSc. (Hons) Demography