A greenish country...a village...and white cloudy escape...

Some sudden arrivals are like destiny
Like this morn he
Cycling hard
Sweated all over
Arrived...
At a village,

A village neat country side
With a dusty road
Going
Like a river
Following the undulations
As if going by her whims,
And running through a village
With trees long...
And trees bushy...

Green...

And above
Only sky blue
Like a marine
Scape...

O how this morn
he escaped
Into a scene
Where only white cloudlets could be visibly seen...
Floating,

he took a pause
Purring mild
Panting
Perspiring
Like a marathon runner
Glowing
Under a tree...

And he took
A long deep breath
As if he had the wish to take
All flavoury aroma of the place...
Restive...
Peaceful...
Silent...
Like God...
The most beautiful...
The Supreme kind...

And he thought
he got another birth,
A Birth
Always happening...
A Birth never to be seen...

he had that feel
On his perspiring soothed limbs...

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