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Harshal Gupta Jul 2018
The sky was pitch black,

Clouds thundered with flashes,

The drops touched my wings distinctly,

I thought I'd lost my way home,

Then a sun ray cutting through the grey clouds,

Gave me a sense of direction.

My flying forward was hindered,

With the changing wind speeds.

But with time the dark clouds had cleared,

Painting the sky in a tint of red.

With another flap of wings,

I should've reached home.

But all I could see was a shattered tree,

In pieces were its branches on the ground.

I could've given up faith and go down,

Then what would be the difference from humans.

So instead took up the twigs from the broken nest,

To build a new one from the scratch.

This storm mutilated much of the nature,

But we never give up.

A reason why we're called that.

— The End —