Writing on leaves, the drops of fogsome sublime poetries,of life & lies,burning and dying,true love in the eyes. Escaping from the arms of clouds,falling to the surface of grounds,it cools the heat all around. Scattered onto the soil,it asks for an another life.a life of time, for a lifetime,nothing it says, but denies.
Whimpers in the maze of tough thoughts,A life with lenity.A thought of seeking coincidence,With wondrous epiphany. A morning that seeks night,But couldn’t.A night that seeks dawn,But couldn’t. It stays within,And asks quietly,Whether you’re,what you areor not?? When not heard,It stays where it belongs,Like a snail in its shell.