Right there, on the wall of lost time, sitting is a clock. Looking through the eyes of time, everything and everywhere.
There isn’t solace, but a sadness that keeps getting deeper with time. If you know and look into it, you will find it hard to understand.
The petrichor, the dusky smell of wooden trench, used long back to make its body. The rare collection of colors put into it.
Wind in its own acoustic comes to make him feel the lost time, like a golden memory which cherishes us to laugh and cry at the same time. It does seem like how the bread of memory pilled with lost time taste. Maybe there is no other beauty glow like the time. It keeps the beauty of dusk and dawn, the sun and moon, the dark and the day, the world and I.
For the regeneration of life, A nap in the lap of nature, a medicine, a therapy it is.
For all of our worries, For a frustrated, an irritated mind, a disturbed soul, and a fast beating heart, A nap in the lap of nature, Is the cure, a medicine, a therapy it is.
For a life, you beg for, The calmness, the peace and the satisfaction, happens with the wonders of nature, So real, to electrify your soul, Regeneration of self-willpower, A nap in the lap of nature, a medicine, a therapy it is.