It’s dark outside ~
stars are woven in sky, so if we can still our minds just enough, our heart is heard.
Liquid like rain falling from the sky,
onto the trees sliding closer to rocky precipice grooved by memories.
Once shared twice till thrice cared,
while this heart of the sky replenishes her cauldron.
From lands far away and near,
like a lucid inhale in slow motion.
We see as streams in an transparent pallet colouring sky,
butterflies devour a secret place,
when a steady rain awakens the colour of earth.
Where their wings translucent glisten like raindrops shed,
quivering wings silken cupping the canopy ribboning,
which release an acorn like an emerald polished stone,
with no thought but rain sliding down a memory of sky.
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