Aug 2020
Like a bird flies in the sky
It knows it is only good at flight
The sky carries it through clouds and rain
It knows it is only good at flight
Then, came thunder
And the bird fell into the sea
It knows it is only good at flight
The sky carries it through clouds and rain
It knows it is only good at flight
Then, came thunder
And the bird fell into the sea
I may have written too many poems by now. But, those who stick with me till my narrative ends, know that our poems mean more than soul and blood. They are the flesh wrapped around our very existence.
