Wednesday, 22 February 2012


Walking towards a lunch favourite is always a humbling experience, as the journey entails walking pass the floor space of a man who calls it home. Boxes, blankets, rags, dirty clothes, and that little metal canister in his possession, he sleeps in seemingly peaceful slumber. But oh, the content of his heart, one must wonder. Shall we turn aside, shall we walk away…

Shall spring dawn
And autumn thereafter,
Without blooming their colours?

Shall the sun shine,
And rain fall,
Without embracing its nature?

Shall one cry
And another despair,
To live on without a prayer?

Shall he in need
And she who bleeds,
Go down without a deed?

Shall one hunger
And one long,
To find not?

Oh, shall we turn aside,
Shall we walk away.
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