upon my life a mere glimpse is enough,
A beautifully encrafted elegance once merged.
Purely handwritten within books of heaven,
Bidding even errors arising from nowhere.
Once could there be a voice, I never knew,
Could set heart shredding into pieces.
Of fortune that forms rainbow with seven bands,
So, how let my story hidden under wooden carves?
Look! Like I know the one since once,
I never know one could believe its true.
On first pages of my story dreams went true,
It never wanted to be, but...
Now since In a little corner of memories,
Your silent voice seem chanting the same.
The story baseless, helpless and boundless,
Upon my wrist that nothing rests upon.
Know your place bit far away, no less could it be,
That this world is nothing less to get trodden.
As nothing that wants to get true,
A helpless word waive millions of expectations.
Could something upon time that could be true,
For the time that ran away from nowhere.
Yet if one listens to the one who throbs for an answer,
Shall pour ending to this everlasting extravaganza.
My story, a little of what spend in stories,
One reported in realities, one designed by destinies.
A fine architecture framed by a famous almighty,
Best known by a mere glimpse!
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