Consangunity has no value

They remain as drawings  on the water.

A stream that drifts between birth and death;

A line on the water in the river of life.

In the heavenly systems that orbits in the universe

Drawing near and  drift away shuddering in its course.

In an isle of earth and inside an inn there

I am just a guest; just a strange guest only.

I can hear on one side mirthful laughter;

On the other whimpering in grief and cries.

Who is the custodian of this inn?

God or Satan?

Or God and God only…



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