Oh how he loved the Sun.
Loved to feel her against his back, pressing to him like the flattened flowers in the pages of a book.
How she seared him with sun-kissed skin.
He wasted on Earth dreaming of the Sun.
He grew wings of wax and clay.
He begged the Wind for flight and flew to her.
But her warmth became a fire and her light became a glare.
Still he flew higher.
She wept and pleaded him to return to the Earth.
He could not see her tears.
The wax melted.
The clay hardened.
He fell and the Sun burned on.

The soft woollen like you is precious derived from Kashmir origin sheep;
You and woollen are both warm and deep.
Like when woollen is collecting from sheep's body;
She reveals her inner beauty of nature embodies.
Likewise, you cover your naked body with cashmere you;
Looks like an angel covering her wings as two.
I'm just staring your curved back through,
My unseen eyes.
Seems like you just born from nature ashes and rise.
I think I'm the only lucky person who,
See you as new.
My lips are craving for a taste of your wings
Which are unseen as our heartstrings!

It comes in passing
Above us
Upon the ground we may not see them
We may not hear their messages
The words of warning and advice
Go unheeded
Carried off by winds
Much louder than their whispering voices
I tilt my gaze to the sky
Watching their words fly by
I wonder how long they have been singing
Who had heard their songs?
Did they hear them in time?
Or was the last note they heard one of melancholy
Of dreams untapped and unrealized
The chains that bind us down from joining them in their flight
Keep us from their songs
They are the ones we put on ourselves
But the shackles have been loosened
Wings freed and flowing
I join their chorus of wisdom
And hope others may finally hear our song