Night is full with absence of sleep and wind.
Wind is full with  rainy optimism from hills.

Life is full with a language and no currency.
Currency is half-full with its hope and faith.

The night is full with a stick tapping sound,
The earth’s hollow makes with a watchman.

Night watchman’s mouth makes its sounds
With a blow whistle at our fullness of hope.

Life is full with words and sounds and lines
A fruit to be dropped any time on fullness.


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