She dreamt of a prince riding a handsome white horse, bending down on his knees, holding a gem studded ring; in the midst of all the abuses and thrashings #hope
The soft earthy wind that is blowing is for me.
These skies that are soaring, are for me.
The surpassing depths of the blue,
Never-ending waters are for me.
The love that these birds are chirping,
Their songs of delight are for me.
The brilliance of that star, the brim of that horizon is for me.
The warmth of the hearts endearing my being,
The energies of the souls enlightening me free,
Yes, all these blessings are for me!
The only rule to conquer all that we desire is – Being Good.
It is bitter, sour, savoury;
Not all can swallow
Some shake, few fall, while others wallow.
All the undertakings assured a concept for sure,
Time bestowed upon us is too little to be ruined in sorrow.
Rise up again and get going on your feet,
For your choices alone are the writers of your destiny.
The bitterness you taste enhances the willingness to crave more,
You craving will get you a success pie,
The sweetness of which shall delight your buds ever more!
A wooden cottage on that hill,
Housed a blurry window framed into a soft sling,
Laying there were the beds of flowers,
Covering the entire passage beyond power.
I peeped through the blur
As I watered the seedlings each day,
Nothing more than a black image could my eyes catch.
The figure glanced at me now and then,
Hiding its stance behind those curtain trails.
Days went by and so did the years,
Never did that shadow show up for real.
Every diurnal was same, not different from many gone by,
The curiosity in my breast surpassed all measures,
The grey figure seemed feeble and wrecked more than ever.
That was when I got closer to that hazy window frame;
To inquire the matter,
The slight left me shattered!
Chains and bondages clung to that pretty soul,
I could have come to her rescue some days ago.
Her feet were broken, senses all lost,
What a miserable state it was.
The fragrant roses stood still,
The circumstances were left at ill,
Orchards there though far and wide,
Did no healing,
As neither she could smell the roses, nor could feel the thorns!