The Avenue


While the sky is sunny-blue,
and the grass's wet with dew,
when everything seems connected.
Why do I feel so new?

When the branches seems to wave,
water's splashing with rage,
when the birds chirp of freedom.
Why my desires seems to cage?

Should I hide, or just blame
Talking about me, without knowing my name.
Why I step behind, why don't I,
clear the queries of my fame.

What's my name?
What do I do?
Where do I belong?
Where I'm moving to?

But then, I step a few
forward but, with a distracted view.
Will my words really sound?
Or should I let my actions sound.
May be, just let it be
If I continue walking, may be I'll reach.

Flourished or a barren land,
colourful or a blissful blanch,
from where I can fill up my fist.
Somewhere I could feel, I exist.

                                           VAISHALI 

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