The skies don’t fear how high the alps rise The shore remains calm at the highest of tides The mountains stay stiff even when Aeolus is wrathed The Horizon does not care how far the ships sail
The twinkling stars are nothing but ornaments of the night sky The rivers but tears of watersheds The thunder, an applause for the lighting show And storms are just winds with a strong blow
All that glisters is not gold Diamonds don’t sparkle in the dark And not everything or everyone matters in this jaunt of life (just like stars, rivers, thunder, storms) But dealing with them is what I ask.
Thousands of thoughts, even fewer to feed Tangled inside the body of a teen Struggling to stream like a roved rivulet But bursting bubbles of ideas restrict them from digging deep. From listening lullabies and peaceful sleeps To smoking cigarettes and worrisome weeps Picture perfect life to delayed dreams Where warmth was now lies sad screams