Although We Are Filled With Worries,

It was nothing but,

Shadow's breeze,

That hung above our heads,

In sheer of time's freeze,

Crept along the slanted walls,

Till' it threw its storm,

There was a silent crawl,

Then a raging brawl.

I stood in the forest,

In my solitude,

The swirling breeze,

The only sound,

When I look up,

At the towering trees,

I realize I'm so small,

Compared to the mist,

The bare trace of my silhouette,

Of my warm breath,

There is no knowing,

Beyond this trail.

I don't know if it's you or me,

All I know is that one of us,

Maybe both of us,

Have changed.

Fling the snow into the air,

On to the trees who are bare,

Dazzle the skies with a pure white,

Now Winter feels just alright.

Swallow's Dance

The azure, gentle swallow,

Perched on its branch,

The leaves that rustle and whisper,

Accompanying the twitters and chirps,

The beautiful melody gliding through,

The seams of the windows,

Mesmerizing in its trance.

Then the wind blew,

As the leaves chattered,

The tree strong, unwilling to bow,

To the relentless storm,

Protecting the swallow,

Who hid among the branches,

Feeble and silent.

No songs float through the air,

Though the rain takes its place,

Splitter, Splatter,

A collective rhythm,

Amplified by the wind’s howl,

And the bustling of the leaves.

As the swallow slept soundly,

Through the lullaby of the rain,

It awoke at the crack of dawn,

Ruffled its feathers,

Then took flight in its wake,

A magnificent sight as its slender body,

And the long waving tail,

Glided above the skies,

The feathers fluttering,

Sweeping the air with it,

The dance and the song,

A sign of life, harmonious nature,

A beauty to behold,

A swallow’s stance,

And its remarkable dance.

I wish not to be with someone,

But with somewhere,

A place that is free,

With surreal scenery,

A place where I can watch,

The Sun,

At the crack of dawn,

The running fawns,

Grazing,

The looming mountains protecting,

The greenery,

The canyons,

The one canary,

Who sings its song,

Who makes me cry,

In sorrow and in joy,

I don't want to be with one,

I want to be with the setting sun,

The endless sky,

As I close my eyes,

And open my soul,

For I can trust the trees,

And listen to the rustling leaves.

The single feather,

That flutters so feebly,

In the calm breeze,

As if time would almost freeze.

The softest wind,

That escapes my lips,

The feather rising high,

And low,

From the ever-changing tide,

Of the rhythm of time.

Romance is blind,

The single lost kiss,

So hard to find,

The unknown bliss,

Hidden in the leaves of the Earth,

I'm still waiting,

For true love to birth.

Life is nothing, but a dream within reality. -TheHen

I wonder why I see a fire,

Burning in the water.