Solitude is swayed and chastised by a dark cloud of sky.

Pearlescent droplets fall, while the wind dance

to the song, to the rhythm of life.

Unsung nowhere, droplets play their beat,

crashing on paths of civilized citizens,

garnishing grasslands with gregarious greens,

sliding on silky slivers of silver pine forests,

whilst shrouding the world from deep worry.

Like sitting under a tree, on an illuminating day,

the sunlight passes through radiating heat off our being.

Droplets, and sunlight,

paint the world through the melody, the dance of life.

While we sit in our offices,

in the nooks and crannies of our home,

outside our windows, the world continues to be born.

-The Sower

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