Through the mist of the past
Maha Nilame steps fore
again
Like the many times before
through the haze of my mind
Silver hawadi hanging low
by the side of the white sarong
Grey hair tied to a knot
And the white beard covering the wizened face
There he is
He does not smile; it is told that, he seldom did
But he stares right in to my eyes
And asks
Did you read what he wrote ?
Did you mean what you said ?
What do you think of me now
http://www.wedagedara.blogspot.com/2012/05/02.html
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