With the drooping sunshine, So we fly. Waving to the burning hills, Do we say goodbye? Deforming clouds encompasses the horizons, Reforming itself to strange compositions. So grotesque is the sight of freezing moon, a spell it spreads, spreads with magnifications. The dying light spreads an enigma away so high, It peeks through the dark clouds, as we pass by. The trauma passes away, waving at us with a loud sigh. Like eagles we watch the dance of the ocean, Mesmerized in music, Of falling sky.
A journey of wisdom, poetry, peace.