When the winds blow in the mountains, they create a music with the river and leaves of deodar, oaks and pines. A man never thinks of poetry, but observes it, feels it. The words do not exist then, only music. The soul of the mountains one cannot capture in pages. I have only tried to write about the music, and a little more from elsewhere. Mountains send the winds to other places too.
some writes deserve explicit praise..some deserve silent appreciation..as they have crept into the readers' soul silently, creating ripples, rekindling truths that one sometimes forget or wish not to remember...loved the scared verse!
some writes deserve explicit praise..some deserve silent appreciation..as they have crept into the readers' soul silently, creating ripples, rekindling truths that one sometimes forget or wish not to remember...loved the scared verse!
ReplyDeleterina.. thank u for appreciating such :)
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