As the dusk comes and sun sets,
skies began to change its pattern gradually and then all at once,
Like a wing it is, stranded from another side of the earth,
pursing lonely soul with its warmth,
filling every void there is.
And it never becomes any quieter,
the hustle bustle of city life,
running after skyrocketed building's lights,
towards a paving block place,
just at the end of the downtown,
a place you claim as home
Just like that evening when the sun shines through trees branches,
and the wind calmly blows against your messy hair,
over a cold tea,
where we thought we finally find us
and it's safe to call us home
And now I comprehend,
why nature speaks no language
but sensibility
because words are everything
but empty sincerity
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