Over the wetlands of the azure abyass , the stoic herons gracefully spread their wings, With riotously festooned cacophony and a medley of hopefulness in the air .
Now flying across the vast disappearing wetlands , In search of a safe abode, many a miles away from the homeland .
Each glide into a confident flight towards a provisional detatchment, searching newer homes without resentment . From log to log , upon the swampy waters , into the wilderness of their own. Percase where time stands still in a never ending zone !
Wild ; yet safely perched in the lap of nature . Scaling the lengths and breadths, a blustery, gusty way , Each day a newer journey , passing through a haze of emotions . Come rain , come shine there's nothing that stops the time .
Captured are they in the vicious circle of the antiquity of life , Nonetheless obliterated by the dark knights of death .
A poise , a pose; Alas! in lame hope , It's moments like these that turn into a smile, Else ; everything is gone, Gone as life is so fragile !