The fading Sun smiled at his weary soul,
Perhaps he knew better.
The most obedient star in our Milky-way, never said "no".
How tiny seems our courage now.
How small is our span of patience,
How weary we look after days' toil
How gloomy we feel at our sadness!
O bereaved soul,
Fear not!
The scattered leaves don't feel pain.
The joy of falling with a purpose is much better than aimless rise!
After all, we all are nothing but Dolls of the Mighty,
Dancing through his majestic tune.
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