My word was it More than the bullet No one spoke

Like the ship of Theseus Parts old and broken

Rise, rise - go find a cloud Glide above, break your shroud.

Oh yes that’s how She chooses to rest

Young and bold Old and light

I said stop! don't flutter!

Her wishes are horses, and on them she rides

Lost in these woods She kept up her pace

Let this muck root my feet,

Dearest Tagore, we havent forgotten you, nor your words.