An ode to my land…

A land of myths,

lores and prayers,

where birth by the gods

was not so rare.

Beneath a mighty giants feet,

it rests guarded and safe,

many souls roam freely about,

but none’s called a waif.

Myriad streams run over terrains

quenching the plateaus thirst,

sun smiles spreading its warmth,

scarcely if clouds do burst.

At its feet

lie them scenic coasts,

water on the trees,

and a bridge that’s afloat.

A land that accepts all

rejection never an option,

all the tresure in the existence,

would fail to buy it in auction.


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