About the waves that perturb to hug
When the foaming waves take away
Those lines carved on their soul
As a slate with plenty pencil strokes waits
To get wiped out with the succulent plant stem
All the thoughts are itinerant like these
About the shores not willing to be wiped out
About the buds which seek a rain harvest to blossom
About the rain yet to be fallen
About the strings in urge to make a tone
When the voice goes off-tone
When the hands seek a support on an awkward step
When the buzzy rain turns to a waterspout
When the waves gulp the shores beyond the lines
You come! As the same one as before!
Two turns are there on the way of fraternity
One, built on a pseudo-outfit
With fences between the minds
A black turn of deceit
The other,
Enchanted with green
Bedded with fallen leaves of compassion
Sheltered with broadness of mind
Blanketed with a thin layer of dew
A white turn of true amity
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