On the heights for a supernatural force...(Swami Saranam)

The sky is clear, Sun is brighter, and the Trees are stronger;

Barefoot, in black, tracing temples and ponds,

Covering the darks,

Of the past and bristling the anger of the body

To prepare the soul of god’s incident,

The steps to taste, enriching power,

The grace of devotion,

Rest, the worst of you is here;

The aligns, best of the termed order,

From the streaks of distance so untold in the legacy of the divine ship,

Optimist; is what you are when you call him,

Proud; you are when you hear him,

Steady; you are when you en-rap the ground,

Barefoot imprinting you and identity,

Thousands come; ten thousand go up-down,

Imprinting their identity of pleasure they have endured.

We ourselves, feel lucky to cut short,

What we call a failure,

So, here we got with the say- “Swami Saranam”… 

My Spriiiiiinting Buss...

With the sprinting air,

With the sprinting trees, blocks, vehicles,

With the sprinting men and women,

Who are actually very low in speed.

The bus moves slow with its speed rising high,

The grey stuffing's near the drains build-up,

With the drawn-up workers, the sheet looks new and the old lies temporarily at something else.

The empathy of living with the same down up workers,

But the greens on our bows,

Which they never think to go around.

A sweat tearing out of the head,

With a salty fluid on its layer bed.

The shoulders brushing,

The heavens blessing and the cherish-moment of happiness get all along.

As we got off the air sprinting taking off to the fluid.

The uncertain sadness pulls our adrenaline above,

But the love in the heart brings it all back.

The success if men are in love,

But what is said to be the weakest side?

The bed layer of sweat is also a fact,

Was everyone is on another for the green part of life.

Life goes all around with the same sprinting garden,

Only without flowers,

We make water that bears flowers,

And the flower that we get is blown to make it fill to the same as it was before…

Dirt A WORth

In the midst of the crowd is where you find it,

got to repel if found anywhere, the bins crossing by it.

The world so high isn't a matter but the waste you throw is a concern.

Never know what you throw and never even see what you are; wouldn't see the one who is dirty but sees himself in the mirror which hates the stand of this miserable dirt.

The thing that isn't available for use is what the dirt means but a creature with a brain asks for the use of waste, which encrypts their brain, which is nothing but a drain.

As then, you move through the science you come across the micelles resembling the earth, surrounding the dirt but forming a foam which forms the bubbles which burst out with new age or renaissance.

So think of the thing that you never want to think which is the only thing that ultimately results in the fossils you use. We say it as dirt as it is a pinch packet of worst inherited earth.

Got to know whether you are the dirt of the ignoble earth…

The Beauty that licks...

A beauty, a passion for everything you do,

a skill to lyric the lines,

a power to express the motions,'

a track to succeed, 

a deck for stay, 

a henceforth layer to play everything in the tune of joy on the strings of life.

The mind that receives the impulse from the heart,

the air that receives a smooth radiant from the skin,

the earth that receives a rare vision of us,

tells the same thing around and round for the desire of the same beauty that endeavored success,

by lying on it for it.

A bit of joy that it gives, 

a bud of life that it lits,

a sack of trip that it decides,

a bag of works that it needs,

proves no bad to be unreal of the word it gives to our soul to process.

A refresher to the word angry,

                      the word agony,

                      the word desperate can be no less than a word of unlimited existence.

A compared beauty heights!!!