Branches stripped of their splendor,
tangled in an hopeless array, complaining,
almost craving displaced justifications.
Interlinking with the sun rays,
they wage war,
they fight against these violent winds that threaten and nibble at their existence.
They stand tall in face of all obstructions,
desolate but fearless, nevertheless.
They unfurl themselves,
slowly giving into these melodies of nature,
the chirping of birds, the feel of drizzling rain.
Their dance beautifully poetic,
their stance breathtakingly firm,
these branches wander from soil to soil.
Though utterly defeated,
brutally broken they still aim for the greens,
the eternally ever greens.
“My dear, you are not one person. You have many people in you, and each one can ask only some kinds of questions. – Bilal Tanveer”