The distance is too far and the sight seems blurred,
The pen though mightier than sword, is clogged,
the beauty though it exist, is cloaked in dark mist,
Yet in its purest state, the free thoughts rest.
The thoughts like the lightness of silken floss,
And its existence, more eternal than the prehistoric rocks,
With the rhythm of flowing river, it shall flow,
Until it reaches the farthest beach, to permanently glow.
With the fall of multi-hued leaves, the birds scream,
The aquatic lives fret with the drying of mud-ridden stream,
And with the cold breeze freezing the once lush lawn,
The inevitable changes in nature bring a change in man.
A change for instance, like a king wedding commoner;
But when the dull butterfly lands on dazzling flower,
The wind rustles, and though fate compels to resist,
The mulish thought pretends to alter, for unknown reasons.