Growth, a word so revered, that mankind has been chasing, Not always about the development and our constant pacing, For it may also come in stepping back and letting go, Like in nature, where lessons thrive in quiet, gentle flow.
The journey to the end seems daunting, As fear and doubt become more haunting. But amidst the darkness, one must not forget, The beauty and strength that lay within, yet to be met.
Scars are like an embroidery stitched on a piece cloth. A story of creation of an intricate design after hours of effort. — % &Scars are like a deciduous tree's leafless branches. A story of a battle of wins and losses and yet, standing deep-rooted. — % &Scars are like lotuses raising from the muck. A story of survival, strength and beauty, let them bloom. — % &
How lyrical it was! How rhapsodic! We conquered them all. Each gale, each storm. Whenever, my hands slipped you became the branch that caught me everytime I was about to fall. Whenever , you did quiver, I was there to hug you tight. We always thought there might be something for us holding on this long. But, one day all the harbingers seemed to lie. The story yet is lyrical and evermore it would be. But, the hope now is a longing till eternity.