31. To the Solitude




The jungle and its solitude,

As if a destitute;

Alone and forlorn,

Still-silent, but happy to be born!



Silence rustle through twigs,

While, wilderness wispily digs

The deepest grave for its opposite,

And peace doth invest in windfallen deposit.



Away, away it seems,

Far away! Thus dreams

Here smile like a reality,

Same dreams, which suffocate in a city.



Like a mystic gone serene,

Environment here had been

Meditating from the yore,

While, rain poured with heavenly lore.



Like a lass too shy,

It doth try

To preserve its chaste privacy,–

Shrink away from any gaze lacy.



Wonder if everything here goes

On awake or enjoy perpetual sleepy dose!?

Perhaps, both enjoy synchronism,

Aha! The heaven without any antagonism.



Love oozes here without paired chemistry;

The love purest in history,

As everything here is a born lover,

And will remain such forever.