Waiting for That Morning

When the tweets of the birds are heard aloud and clear while the noises inside the head have finally surrendered.

Waiting for that morning,

When the breeze soothes the sleepy eyes and the psyche stops projecting the pictures of dark memories.

Waiting for that morning,

When the fragrance of dew on the leaves evacuates the smell of the foul thoughts.

Waiting for that morning,

When the nature’s touch feels holy and it removes the profane layer of dermis.

Waiting for that morning,

When the veins get filled with blood so pure that it ends the reign of the impurity.

Waiting for that Morning!