The God’s Whisper

Who sets the palateWho mixes the coloursWho holds the divine brushTo paint this wonderful pictureIn the splashOf colours Lies the speckOf creationIf the pixel is so divine How great would bethe complete pictureThe colouris in the eyesAnd the mind divineOnly those willing to stop and witnessCan hear The God’s whisper

The red petal

Lonesome Red petala piece of the treeis now fallen And freeBathed in theDew drops, pure as glassServed and protectedby loyal blades of grassIt retains its colourVivid and trueUnaware it’s fallenAnd would never be newIn decayIt glowsWhat it isIt showsIts fallenYet it remainsWith its colourthe mind it stainsSoon The petalwould cease to beDissolved in lifeno longerContinue reading “The red petal”