Picture: Halong Bay, Vietnam, December, 2016 Swerving in the symphony of broken vows, Are her spirits - untamable then, unflinching now! Tell a tale, it is for some, some value it a dime, Eternity it is for her, that minuscule fraction of a lifetime. With her head held high, chin held up, She shines like an armor, up above. Drifts left, and takes her flight, She drifts wrong, and drifts right. Gazes at the position far from her sight, Her nerve for the grail, holds her tight. Embarks on the journey, to fathom the ocean alone, Little does she know, to sufferings she is prone. To the world, she is smiling, flying and shining, To the world, she is success and laughter, To her, she is still the same girl, who wanted to be her own crafter. Broken inside, she needs a space, A space, a place, to let loose and burst, And not be judged as feeble and frail, For she needs to vent, vent out once, And vent out last, And not be judged as pall...
