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In the end the man fell
never to rise again.
But his pen defied death
to resurrect a flame.

The little words were his blood
the little lines his veins.
All the wrote and nobly did
would ever serve his aims.

We see him clear,we hear him well
we feel him within us.
We know his pen has rightly said
"My master died but not dead".

Moe Hein
(Son) Journal Kyaw
22.7.2000

Notes- this poem is for U Chit Mg who is a good journalist by his son.