Time is tired of you

Evenings are wearied of you

Surroundings are bored of you

Air turned stale with never ending cycles of breathing….

Buds bloomed and shriveling, we relish on achievements

Tender barks withering, yet we count on experience.

Warm blood turning cold, and freezing, we elate and call it the composure

Of course, the best consolation is wisdom, no one but only the inexorability of time bestows

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. May be true...otherwise how else would He have corrected unintended creative mistakes.

Empires, little or big, are ever shaky and fragile

Existence is flitting, but ground is always firmer and

souls are indestructible

Enduring are only love and humanity

Triumphalism is ever short-lived, but

Thanks is tear wiper

Appreciation is a succor to the exhausted

Recognition is a trophy to the 'worker bees'

But, again it is on going onward journey towards yet another bog

Thou shall maintain high animal spirits regardless for there is no other way

How you look at things

The way you look at beauty, the beauty does not look at you the same way :D

Birthday

The most random of events is birth of species, and the funniest thing is that the most intelligent (and only laughing) among them celebrate it.