By shores of Peace.

The seaside looks calm, buoyant,
the solace grabs the chaos away.
Soliloquies surrounded, thoughts impounding,
The cheer of the silence deepens down, losses crying.

I feel like home, the one where I surmount,
I can spread the arms and say the winner of sorts,
every single beat of space, the symphony of the air,
the interludes waves create, tears roll down, how often.

The harp seems playing the ubiquitous,
seldom do we watch this side, don't we?
Finding that child's glee, happiness,
I want to be that one pretty child.

I could, within snaps, devastate these dreamy sequences,
but no, though it's a dream, I love it here, locking myself;
wanting to spread open the humungous wings of fire,
the vast vision through the stars to all other galaxies.

A fantasy I yearn for, a miracle, expect to happen,
often do I feel not alone here as always,
not bothered by any hindrances, carry over of life,
The harp continuing it's magical embrace.

I feel sitting beside myself, and listening to mind voices,
of myself, and bewildering and bedazzled by senses.
But the clone is there to remind of the lonely time.
I cry on that like a little beautiful child, to buy more time on the shore.

The salted dreams, the spicy genres of thoughts,
the malicious being in reality, the magnificence hidden here by the shore,
I am going to miss them, but I have ordeals to make,
The tears are of no waste though, for they are going to bring me back.

My clone calls me a beautiful child, a blessed one,
But I would agree that with the nature, It was the one.
The fantasy drowns me from within, the eyes forlorn.
For it knows it's unreal, the cry would become louder.

The dithered hopes come alive with the shores promising,
The failing dreams begin all over,
The interests come together, though cracked, adhering stronger,
All for one reason, one magical journey, one amazingly brilliant cheering solace,
one toting hope towards this magic, By the shores of peace.