The Burial Ground

At a far off distance
From the city of beauty
Near the base of the hill,
There lies a place:
The gate way to eternity.
The sole man,
With wings of courage,
Takes care of the sky of grief.
The scripts of epilogue
He listens
And shares his sorrow
With the tears of rain.
The purpose of the journey
And the essence of manuscripts,
Perhaps he knows much better
As the curator of musical life.

Find more by P K Padhy in the Author Index.

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