From home to cab, from cab to traffic,

With traffic comes noise, from there you reach office.

You meet the clients and your mind they devour,

Every moment there s’ something to bother.

On Sundays you go for work out.

Got no time to think’ bout

Yourself, the world, the nature s’ sweet curls.

Today in the gym a melody hurls,

You drown in her drowning tone.

You find solace and serenity.

Go for quest, coping with paucity,

To find the arcane of salvation.

You ingest her in you

Find yourself intact and true.

The phase of purity begins,

Her pacifying aura ruins

The trauma of soul.

And you plunge in a hasty hole.

You lose her but concede the slog s’ hollow

And solicit the grounds of her halt.

They say that she went an hour ago.

Severing his fracas with her sway,

Gives a lesson to his ego.

Its’ not the world or filthy flowing furrow

Of life, but the will to think.




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