Always the Sun Rises.

When shadows fall on green meadows
And air is rife with wails and cries
When abysmal ambitions make gruesome grounds
And no mind seems peaceful or sound.
When scrapers are razed to dusty mounds
And success ,mere travesty, flaunts.

It s then when I lay my head on the ground
Heart floods with gratitude profound .
In the nook of my shed in the darkness
Still alive, still breathing ,still waiting for the sunrise.

3 thoughts on “Always the Sun Rises.

  1. Amita Paul

    A brief reflection on the tragic nature of contemporary reality ending on a note of gratitude and hope .


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