Picture Courtesy : Diba |
in a desert.
usually bereft of moisture
and warmth.
But the dawn was singing songs
in rhythm with petrichor,
as i saw clouds of disdain
hover over me.
like nature was asking me
to pack my bags
and leave for another universe
where the dusks are clearer
stars brighter..
and dawns, unfogged.
and deserts -the way they are meant to be
and farms, green and lush..
Far somewhere,
a land once green,
now hollers of drought..
and I...
I wonder...
how do I get
to the nadir
so that I lay a base
and slowly climb to the zenith
of something
that is pure
-of nature
and fair...
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