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To be able to express yourself like the sky, it takes a lot more. You becomes one with the galaxies, the stars, the moon dust and possibly all the magic in the universe and beyond. Have you ever wondered what the sky might have wanted to say? When it writes in rain or cries in the storm, you feel its wrath and its tender touch.

 If the verse is your sin, then by all means you are a poem; not even the skies can erase. 

And lay my hands in ink as if it were my own blood.

Sometimes and more often than not, it is reckoned.

.

.

 These are whispers to the wind that no one may hear but everyone silently breathes. Without whose utterance, we cease to feel.

And with whose quotation, you become a thousand lakes that fathom a thousand moons.

The moon simply sits in my sky but it dances in your lake. Its reflection is your given.

     Yours Sincerely

A  Poem

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