Languish
The main purpose of life is to live rightly, think rightly, act rightly. The soul must languish when we give all our thought to the body.
Mahatma Gandhi
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Winter is a suitable time to savor,
Silent, quite starving for, my only flavor.
Quiet seclusion enhances my languish,
Providing pause, meditation, and favor.
Frozen days of chilly nip raise my anguish,
Apply comfy sheets, light for cold to vanquish.
A dreadful bulk of cloud and a brisk breeze,
Inspire sloth in a book respite, prankish.
Beautifully arching shrubs and trees,
A ballet of nature's dreams and appease.
White feathers tumble to the soil below,
As sapphire shines, emerald first wheeze.
Fumes in chimneys coil, merge, and grow,
I burn a recollection as shadows undergo.
Crystal-clear river, frozen pearls, pristine,
Wind gusts at dusk in a cold stream flow.
It's peaceful in my heart and serene,
And mesmerized by the gorgeous scene.
Calm and eased by the stark lightness.
Winter is when I languish, purify, and shrine.
Indigo optimism overlays placid rightness,
Potent nature pride ethereal brightness.
A lovely mix of purple haze made it lighter,
Insignia aesthetic—only ebbing politeness.
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Sotto Poet
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