The land of freedom
Is not around us,
Not before us,
But deep within us.
Sri Chinmoy, Seventy-Seven Thousand Service-Trees, part 47, Agni Press, 2007
I remember …
My mother loved me, her world.
My father loved me, his dream.
My home loved me, its 'supreme'.
I remember …
I prayed with the blooming dawn,
I played with the glowing sun.
My life, the nectar fun.
I remember …
I sang with the twinkling stars,
I danced with the floating moon.
All lost, alas, too soon.
I remember, I remember, I remember.