A Quest

There can be nights of unconsiderable counts
That saw my eyes moist and red,
But the shine on them outside the shelter
Is brighter than the sun on July’s shade.
Trembled, afraid and lost at times
But I’m not the only one who feels them at best;
Tough heart, sometimes a weightless cloud
And the pen, why does it always go unrest?
Beauty like that of the Fall
Easy like that of a summer’s morning,
Such a day, everyday
I deceive it to myself for wondering!
If someday you’re into finding me
And to decipher the depths in my soul,
Sing out those words that my pen pours
And name it what your flair beholds!

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