The wind was getting
stronger,
And the prints were too ragged,
The hope was fickle, so
were odds,
And hapless soul was too
shagged,
Deaf, blind and a monk
naked,
As pure at heart
as diamantine,
The sun was raging and
sand agitated,
Burning at heart searched
for divine,
The shadows were raging
and alive,
And prints were lost in
storm of time,
The wind was wild, with
a mirage in sight,
And digs too seemed like
a hard climb,
Hope was fading, the
vision was blurred,
He prayed to Lord, not
to be turned,
The Soul of the world he
said he earned,
He got robbed, brighter
he burned,
A hand entered his frame
of vision,
He looked up to the ray
of light,
The soul shattered, so
did my dream,
lovely
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