Zero Volume


The day was dark, it seemed as if the sun has deceased. It had rained almost whole day, not every rain ends at rainbow. Not every rain brings spring, sometimes the longing of autumn is unbearably procrastinating. I was not knowingly lost in another world. Its always good to give up, its always good to bend down, its a way to salvation.

Fighting and standing is not of my traits. Gray mist has settled down, the voice from the dreams ended, I am not anymore cognizant of all my rhetoric visions. Spring must come, autumn must end, from the dim regions of mountains in my sight, must uprise a tall flower, dancing with the beats of breeze, waving on the courtesy of clouds. Beauty must prevail one day, but beauty is not seeing. Beauty is a character, that befell upon the dirtiest of prawns, that clarifies the smoky haze. Before the scum return, the roots must be watered.

At times, sudden out of nowhere, a thought clinges, let there be a nitingale singing to amuse, or let there be a dead silence. Extremes are healthy for life, ingredients that make it tastier. However the eyes stoop for skies, the stars dont light the earth when the sun glows.

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