• nimish_t 10w

    The tide of ocean at restless feet,
    To wither and to grow is matter of treat;

    Summon the lark at rumble of its trace,
    Empower thy freedom with the Divine grace;

    Just upon the world rising above the sins,
    Weaken those inner jolts weaker as it thins;

    Let justice be served, to needy those are weak,
    Parch the ill, burn thy shrouds of a streak;

    The greatness of the ocean is not how deep it goes,
    But to a fragment, the benevolence that it shows.