Clouds having traced antimony,
Today the rain is coming,
Refuge of hearts suffering.
To a dry bough came verdancy,
And the world turned juicy.
With beat and tune tear-stream comes down,
Ignoring lightning's frown.
Ever striding in the mind's great house,
What's the expectation after stretching feet?
Seated alone at niche of home, I get by and muse:
Whom do I pull close, whom do I discontinue?
Deep inside the psyche with a raga of clouds,
Faraway retires the despondency.
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There is no grief that life does not defeat.
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