Cycle of discomfort

Arid-tanned leaves, vigorously stripped from their cages by thick cold winds, luring them to dance like elegant swans, swaying dangerously naked to speeding express, testing their fate. I hear the roars and dark clouds setting up the stage. You only hear nature's voice through our pen. Their pain, happiness, memories and laughter. our favourite lover. They preserve us, and in turn, we become their sip, they eat in nourishment. In the end, we all come back as Nature.