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DEATH 10 : SONNET 17

I've died many times but each time I've fallen,
Death has raised me with his immortal hand
And life's numberless deadly blows have spun
To fun by the touch of his magic wand.
The thought of death does resurrect my corpse,
Inspirit my soul and inspire me to rise
And brave the life's relentless jagged course;
As I walk 'gain no pain, no tear, no bruise.
With death holding up a beacon over yonder,
I notice in that lighting all do perish
Under his feet - the evil, the good - forever
My being left with no bias or grudge to nourish...
And endure I my plights thus submitting
To death's absolute bearing on my whole being.

-- N P SAMAL

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