Poems
THEME/S
Facing you, hill.
My gaze is drawn
From your indigo foot to your top of tawn
With a worshipping will.
I look and look until your stance
Suddenly weighs
My lifted glance
Deep down to some unnamable base
Of silent self within—
Whence to a haloing blue
My own soul masses up, out-moutaining you
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Amal Kiran
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