Saturday 20 April 2013

Manacle


The doubts that I heard at play                           
Suddenly begin to vanish away
Sun beams from eastern window
Darkness now seems so hollow
In thoughts impish brooks flow
Impeccant heart wants to glow
As the leaves are to forest
And tender birds to the nest
So is your presence prime
Like pristine lamp in shrine
Fathoming it all is profusely futile
Its breath that goes away for a while…

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