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| Crossing |
Horns, ripples, you hear them all
Faces too, fire of living
Then you decide the pain has to stop
Attachment or peace,
Yes, that is the choice, no home
No shore, just an illusion
Become, decide, persevere.
That day, we crossed the bridge
On that rickety sweat soaked bus
Window panes were chattering,
Too much noise, drowned the
quiet brown river below
Flowing between the two shores
Constantly eroding its bounds
Did we really cross over,
Is it finished then?
