Opening the door show the light,
Gust of wind blows north right.

Icy mist whitens the hilly way,
I am unable to track the  dray.

The Dear of King do chase we,
Who do need service of security.

A man so begs Mercy , free law ,
Who is in plight, & assistance-draw' .

A tired monk thus roves  unfortunately,
Open this Door for mate conjugately.

It is too late now , that is not needful ,
Your security, too, seeks luckily seedful.

For the sake of good & ours ,
Receive a bliss of Holly Powers.

© 03/05/2013 ( from POOR HEART SINGS )


© Krishnakinkar Bhaktisarowar Tylent