So many words, unheard,
Talk to you.
Listen,
Or move on
With a smile
Like nothing happened.
Your tomorrow is like
A burning Sun,
You feel the heat.
It’s creepy from this point,
But wait,
It’s not dark.
You buy hopes,
Not arty candles.
You buy organic hopes
That burn
And make a thousand Suns,
Gusting up the radiance.
So many words, untouched,
Hide inside,
Like mystery unsolved.
Tomorrow
Was never here,
Tomorrow is awake,
In daydreams.
Tomorrow is not
Buried unutilized
In droplets of obscurity.
Tomorrow is the reward
To the words.
Tomorrow hides
On your path ahead.
Listen,
Or move on
With a smile.
That inkling
Was a fabled zilch.
Spread the words..
A Journey Called Life ... 
You’re welcome.
Thank you, Vishal.:)
I know, it’s so frequent. Thank you, Arka. 🙂
Yay! Thank you, Nida. 🙂
Thank you, Itty. 🙂
That sounds awesome. Thank you, Indira.:)
I agree. I also noticed that. 🙂 Thank you, Patrick. 🙂
The trees in the distance almost look like men on horseback. Zilch is sad end to the fable.
It’s beautiful.
Lovely.
What a poetic zilch:)! Lovely
“That inkling
Was a fabled zilch.”- We all had that moment!
Beautifully expressed