Listening myself
I encounter a loner.
There is no voice
Not any choice.
Flute getting fainter
Music still scatter,
And a melody to heal
somewhere I feel.
Silence invaded routes
Noise of stepping boots,
Walking into the woods
Fallen trees I have found
And overturned roots.
Observing thunder,
Lightning marched,
Playing with wild risk
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Life still goes on…
A battle to live.
Among the woods:
shepherd’s song
And the flute.
Hem is a travel guidebased in Pokhara
