Fire took birth when collided two marvellous limestones,
An action which even fate wished could be undone.!
Both of them had their own morals,
So to extinguish the fire, tried none.
But the fire that took place gave many births,
Only if one could see,
Possibly they had similar dents too,
Collision also had caused the same damage to the two, probably.
Their disguise I wonder is as a titanium for a creepy reason, one of their sole,
As if now to be a rock and not meant to ever roll.
Fire, this word, is an irony in itself,
Showing life but acts raging to turn all into ashes.
Why do the sheeps I count seem less when I am not even feeling sleepy,
Things I long for, strucks me hard to give unhealing indentation, and then I try to detatch myself from it,
But my longing always defeats the feel to waiver, its creepy..
How does a bird, only look the most beautiful at its birth, unfurling its wings,
My innocence, where my only guide was my conscience, filled with empathy, it sings.!