Between the trees and thorny bushes
This road is all I have to drag my feet all along.
I halt at every few steps at the sound of wind
But, it is my own breathing I hear more and more
Telling me the truth of lies that I am breathing unsettled
And the murky mind let itself trapped in the cyclic rotation.
The road appears far and narrow with the clouded atmosphere
I am not settled with the world outside, never ever
I know I am but me, the silence beyond quietness
The oneness without a second
Yet turning towards me is the hardest of all, as,
the whimsical tones of senses play hide and seek with me
And, the shadows remain real.
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