Photo by Max Berger on Unsplash
Gracefully it spins,
Weaving every thread.
It is a bliss,
It is a fame.
It is the reason we cry when we don't have it,
It is the reason for peace,
It is the reason why love stays in place.
Moon is grey but it looks white,
You call it serene even if its filled with sand and dust,
That is faith.
About the Creator
Anwesha
The one who showers every plant, keep trust in that gardener's chant.
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