There&#39;s a part of every person that is entertained by the idealistic, the fantastic.

Out of the simple consonants of the alphabet and our eleven vowels and diphthongs all possible syllables of a certain sort were constructed, a vowel sound being placed between two consonants.

A drop touches,
the scattered leaves
And the leaves become alive
It is not the water you think
But a water from her eyes
As it ripples  through her skin
As it blend into the green
As it screams a story that 
never goes blind.

Written By Shubham Saha

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