by Ansul Nooreen

Tall and staid the Tree stood alone in the valley of kismet.
Rain whipped the bark into timid helpless pulp.
Thunder pitilessly peeled the core.
And now it weeps those tears once more.
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by Ansul Nooreen

Joining, mingling, often dazzling,
Streaks of ravishing hues colliding,
Cottoness weaving patchy dreams,
Culminating into willowy streams,
Feathery blues, such peaceful solitude,
In acres binding forgotten clues;
to absolute enlightenment
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