Literature, Nature, Peace, Poetry, Think About This

Golden Fleece I do not seek

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It was not across Aegean Sea
Nor with the swish of oars
Nor hopes or promises anew,
Dragging drowning drone
Dulled the mind,
All darkness in sight;
It was through nowhere
As time tore across bonds,
Separation sliding silent tears
Down the tender pale cheeks,
For the few young years
that memory will retain,
Will we ever meet again?
Oh why am I set, on this island?
The Golden Fleece I do not seek,
Nor a wizard on the yellow brick road,
For what Crime or Punishment
Do I leave, a land, no more My Land,
I am a born refugee of a divided nation,
Is this The Second Migration ?

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