The Void.

Sour awakening,

A faint smile from the sun,
A cold brace of water,

rues from the past,
In his soul would vast,
Through the emptiness that now was so filled,
In him, and his Forlorn heart.

Singing Springs,
And virgin-forest calls
the sound of water falling from rocks atop,
The sublime feel, of cold winds bracing warm faces,
And his light grew brighter,

The calls were eminent, more alive
His soul, restless like a child

He packed his bags,
His soul, echoed with sounds of nature,
Calls that so filled his heart,
Sounds, that now would fail to part,
-Anirudh Shankaran.

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