It is as steady as a stale shadow. My morning with Sun nimbing somewhere ahead of time. Violet petals were far from awake, heeding to their eternal wishes in dreams to come. True itself, lies were withering many times in breathing crimes. Stretch of the day was beneath the complete sky. Trend of winds were as predictable as the good words. They lived as per expectation.
They need a change; wild orchids , graves of silence, stellar skies, tremoring leaves, slit throats, split molecules, many universes, vibrant verses, harking heavens; not sure of what they possess they shed light and resorted in spinning mountains, quite subserviently ...
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