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shveta sahal


Manacle


The doubts that I heard at play
Suddenly begin to vanish away
Sun beams from eastern window
Darkness now seems so hollow
In thoughts impish brooks flow
Impeccant heart wants to glow
As the leaves are to forest
And tender birds to the nest
So is your presence prime
Like pristine lamp in shrine
Fathoming it all is profusely futile
Its breath that goes away for a while…

Submitted: Saturday, April 20, 2013
Edited: Saturday, April 20, 2013
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