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Some Yearnings Unadorned
The misty fragrance of the elusive greenery that evades the window of my soul is yet to be acknowledged.
The joy of being eternally sorrowful is yet to be figured. The pains of eternal turmoil are yet to be rejoiced.
The prevailing beauties of nature and kindness are yet to be enjoyed. The love for pleasure is yet to be considered.
The reminiscent encounters of self-introspection and determination are yet to be nostalgicised.
The affection of present and the mystery of future are yet to be defined.
But here I lay...thinking about what happened in the forgone past, with a tear in my eye, which is yet to be cried.
© Somanshi
The joy of being eternally sorrowful is yet to be figured. The pains of eternal turmoil are yet to be rejoiced.
The prevailing beauties of nature and kindness are yet to be enjoyed. The love for pleasure is yet to be considered.
The reminiscent encounters of self-introspection and determination are yet to be nostalgicised.
The affection of present and the mystery of future are yet to be defined.
But here I lay...thinking about what happened in the forgone past, with a tear in my eye, which is yet to be cried.
© Somanshi
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