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Jiya

Poems, recollections, inspirational sketches, stories, travel vignettes.

Monday, April 23, 2018

Burning

I saw a bush that was burning
but not consumed by flames,
I saw a bush that was yearning
but not entrapped by names.

A burning bush it had become
and God spoke from within its midst,
and though I stuttered in reply,
I felt I had been kissed.
Posted by Jiya at 3:07 PM

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Jiya
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