Perhaps, to whisper a clingy tale,
The silver‐grey cloud loomed closer.
There are forces imminent,
It heeds none... until,
It blocks the blooming sun.
Crepuscular rays play their part;
They peek with a hint and impart :
'O cloud, let it be known
You have descended much, beyond too close.
The sky is anxious; now, enough commotion!'
The stones and rocks gravel, awestruck;
They murmur and whisper
To let the river know.
The river ripples,
Though calm, composed, being at fore.
The cloud takes a step back
Stunned, it blushes blue
Offers a consoling hand
And tells its part, devastatingly true.
'Land and river, the line I have known,
Never has been and never will be blown.
The thirst of summer and ancient tales,
Tagged me along, by the blue-hearted trails
For a scent of earth water,
And the steely charm of the gentle river
From skies far off, I have trudged to hither
I shall recede, slowly and with steady steps,
That was enough, the delightful water scent.
In a moment of moments that has been
For another eternity, maybe until then.'
The cloud turned,
The twilight burned,
And for the greater good,
Simple peace stood.
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