Bilaterally, they started their journey.
But there is no any trace of ancestors.
Their tombs covered with grass.
We grass roots continue our journey.
It seems that according to a certain order by a hidden enforcement?
The old coloured lodgings here & there with their brassy new names.
We stay a night or two then proceed onwards.
The conviction in everybody's mind that hides the careworn?
We pretend as perfect but we are the carbon copies of our hazy Ancestries.
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-scampering-run-in-labyrinth/
