And with the evening
Weaving
A tune
In the air
Like a dame lighted half fair,
By a candle held in hand there,
As if being turned so
By the wavy motion of a dying glow,
me hears a raga outpouring,
The silky evening so befitting,
Like a song often sings
The sky after a spell of bath,
As if the sky is having an evening
To sing religiously...
Like 'nothing else matters to me',
A raga thus the evening pours
As the knocks on the heavens door...
And the evening
Weaving a lore
A musical paint pours pure...
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