I will not write again about the things that occupy my mind and give me the capacity to feel varied emotions.

I will not write about the sunrise; about its hues which paint the early morning sky, about its light that cracks through the horizon and set aside the night; about how my heart leaps up from a slumber of pleasant dream or thrilling nightmare. Nor will I write again about the sunset or even just use the flaunting adjectives to describe its beauty for I know that despite its magnificence it is the most beautiful goodbye I can ever witness. Of course, I will not let my notebook to be filled with their alluring sorrow again.

I will not write about the flowers that blossom under the sun- how their petals gloriously bask in the sun’s warmth, how their fragrance gives joy to the human mind, how their beauty can bewitch the human eyes, how their presence in a garden exudes appealing scents. These flowers are epitome of deception and I will never let my pen be fooled by them again.

I will not write about wind that rustles through my window and embrace me with its enchanting arms nor will I let my guard down when its breeze demands for solitude. And about the rain that drizzles and showers, I will never write about how it makes me long...