#YearEndEchoes

Crawling to the unknown,
Through the path of buds and thorn.
Under the west wind and over the dew,
We all are blowing to re new.
After a week of carols and cake,
To the first morning, something to wake.

To wake the hope and make it believe,
Now only the change can relieve?

In the room full of darks,
Nothing to stay, but the marks.
Though the echoes of dryness blare,
Bells of joy and colours are here.
We are behind that curtain of old,
Ready to leave, to live and to mould.

Some...