From the Surviving SeedA Poem by Archishman Rick
My inspiration was sown,
Back on a chilly grey land, After my dear seeds were blown, By winds that froze up my hand. My instincts led me to hold, Onto a growing new tree, Which I now climb to unfold, Sturdy shoots of destiny. With rising branches to find, I lose sight of the devil, And prospects I left behind, Sacrificed for the travel. I am but mere under skies, But I cling on to my tree, The cold winds blow through my sighs, As I see wings of the free. Piercing the sky we grow tall, No limits can keep us bound, No one can now make me fall, I hope you cheer from the ground. For my exploits I owe love, To down below by the roots, So when they are ripe enough, I shall bring down all the fruits. © 2020 Archishman RickFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on September 25, 2020 Last Updated on September 25, 2020 AuthorArchishman RickWest Bengal, IndiaAboutA fellow in my mid twenty's, I have a knack to challenge myself mentally and physically. I aim to find, and trust the worth in the things which present themselves in life. I like to write rhythmic, m.. more..Writing
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