Gardens of Struggle


Books of poetry,
in English and refined
formal perfect,
are passed down like
heirlooms from teacher
to student done in
the remote corner of
dusty and warm
libraries.

Along with unheard epics
are cosmopolitan dreams
of prestige
or even just company
and enthusiasm
that is beyond the capability
of the toiling and decadent masses
like an ocean of despair
and festivities
where close knit circle of nerds
manage to float.

And as demonstrations
pass by
one after another
leaving behind blood,
tears, hope,
the bard of other worlds
takes
deep breaths,
sweating beneath the sun
in his own silent
struggle of
sustaining the bloom
of his
bonsai

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