A.V

The aroma of flower buds, makes the endearing breeze alluring. Evening prayers move with the birds, to the corners of the sky. It is an evening of early spring. I see the Courtship of the sun and the moon, as they stare at each other from west to east, as the sun sets and the moon's ethereal rays strengthen.  My hands hold the book mritunjay.  I unfold the yugen, as it diaphanously  takes over my senses. In the background, there are songs of birds and insects.  A brown shawl is draped around my shoulders. It hugs me with warmth, and as the  cool wind eloquently teases me. My shoulders move closer  and my demure body fills with comfort.  On the roof, over a ladder, I read.  A.V

The self is no high scorer, past was as low as the bottom line, they said slow and steady wins the race, rose to average from the bottom, desires to get to the top, works to get, I desire what, all have their own puzzels, so I don't complain when I cant study, when someone dies, when tension roams the house,  when problems surround, I won't complain, but how do my mind will listen when it doesn't know how to control, when there are 2 swords in my heart, and intend to self-harm, now I doubt myself, if it is right or wrong, how high should I see.