Serene love of one but for all,
Light of sacred thoughts enroute to places unknown,
Winds unleashing sweet memories in winter,
Like trees mind may appear,
Mountains we may call our imagination,
Words are random and so do our thoughts,
Nothing is permanent, love of all seasons is different like these lines,
Complete yet not eternal.

It's not possible to give what you have,
It's not possible to say what you want,
It's not possible to feel and to be felt completely,
It's not possible to love someone the way you wish,
It's not possible to touch someone the way you imagine,
It's not possible to write what you truly felt,
It's not possible sometimes to be who you really are,
We are ever changing, ever exposing, ever defining, wandering souls.
It's all about possibilities sometimes.

Oneness in love widens the boundaries of love.
If not me I Hope you will love someone else with this much intensity.

What is this world ?
What is being real in this world ?
What is being wrong ?
What is being true ?
What is being strange ?
What is being touched and being felt ?
Are we clear about our emotions ?
Is our existence mystery itself ?
Does everything that your mind question your creation or world's ?