|Credits : abstract.desktopnexus.com|
You shall surely see the grace of a bird in fight,
But I see a mother's desperation to fly home to her hungry young-ones.
You may then praise the art of the setting Sun,
When I fear the fading shadows that unite stealthily with the night.
You laugh at a running saint being chased by a 'mad' dog,
I cry for the dog, cause he shall face the wrath of a mindless 'God'.
You shiver at the howl of a wolf, magnified by the silence around,
I smile with the symphony which gives me an illusion of company.
You see the moon rise steadily in the East,
I feel its webs of attractive aura making me walk into it.
Now, do you see a lonely poet juggling with words and missing many?
Because he sees you like a classic painting, while I continue the scrawl.