Words burn out of their spirits
As an old man spills philosophies
From inside a closed bar
In the bulky pages of silence and innocence
Wind foretells the humming stories of truth
As I ponder upon the sacrosanct lies
That with time has stained humanity.
Rocks and sands sing songs of the feeblest ones
While rains drain their sorrows in the might sea
I didn’t write poetry in words
I didn’t sing a song that has no life.
Poetry drinks me, songs sing me.
Dom Kafley, Adelaide