This mist, this smell of incense sticks,

This mist,
This smell of incense sticks,
On the city streets,
Serve me with a belief,
As if,
Hath transformed
And you
To extend palms
To receive
The falling mist,
The drops of dew
On our morns...
Our breaking dawns
Draped by the golden ways
Of winds blowing...
To make us all swayed...

Like these leaves mine,
Like leaves glistening fine,
Like the autumnal grape vine
Getting flowing as Holy Wine...


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