This birth of a morn, on Your palm...

This birth of a morn
Like a calm
On Your palms,
Carries a feel
Of never ending...
As if Rihana
Threading like She
An Unseen Galaxy...
Immaterial
And so real
As if in your eyes
me sees the birth of skies...

Skies bluish like a song
Like never being alone
And yet so lone
As if they be
Goddess true...
Reaching to the source of all blue...

This birth of a morn
Is like kindness
Spreading like Your whitish gold a dress
Worn for an occasion
To make an unlearn
Of all learnings
As if like photographs clicked in a series
You Unmake
time's little steps,
To make bigger strides
To Hope
Like a smiling joyous Sunrise...

This birth of a morn
Is so Christ like
As if the sky like
A wavy breath
Drops only care
And Love of The Seer...

Like He in white
Quiet
Dropping His awesome
His overflowing generation
Of Golden Heart...
As if all dust and dirt
Have been swept away long
And only His songs
Like psalms have been left
To fill souls forever...
To wash us like a Flow...
To bathe us like Pure...

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