What strikes the morning sky and ignites it
The laments of the might before, or, freedom of light
Kind of a lazy startle at the new awakening
It takes patience to bid goodbye to sleep
When dreams metamorphose from lament to hope
An unwilling heart becomes an obstinate optimist
To find the rhythm that’s authentic
Only the heart knows, but the soul speaks too
Eyes travel far while chasing the dreams
Here, it feels indifferent, but the light takes over
Becomes a close friend who is at the window
Waiting for the first steps towards a new horizon
~Amitav
Lovely.
It’s hard to find the right rhythm at times.
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Thank you, Bojana.
It’s an arduous path for sure.
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