Those mystic layers never leaving me alone ,
Lulling me to a sleep and murmuring it’s tone.
Making me isolated from the world of possessions,
Pursuing me to my world and exploring sessions.
Rebirth in the beauty of nature with same glow,
New sounds, new frost-flowers and new zeal in the whirling winds that blow.
Constant change never harming, always preserving it’s authencity,
Takes me to the Keats poetry of love and beauty.
When life kept imitating the art of blooming red roses in springs and fallen pale leaves in night,
I started baffling nad measuring the beauty of dawn n dusk in the light.
The slight touch of the gentleness of nature can kill the instincts we took,
Thine theory of change n patience can give innocence beyond books,
It can teach you both melancholy n harmony in one look.