Tale Of Birds || Ambys2021

Tale Of Birds

Glistening of the construed constellation,
Whispered the secrets of evolution,
There ensued the string of mystical harmony,
Playing the magical tune of veristic mutiny.

Then she rose, the Prakriti of eternity,
As a supernal beam with astir tendrils,
Letting her compassionate gleams of dignity,
Dance in grace to sanctify past perforating perils.

From the elegance and mercy tides trickling,
She birthed two nectar craving nestlings.
Was it her slip or their trick of fate knew none,
She let the young birds fall upon the horizon.

The two trivial birds, choking for even a wail,
Stood unsteady yet ready for the unforeseen sail,
They strived for a chorus, to mark their lonely dawn,
Failing to discern that they were her pious pawn.

The nestlings kept their quaking heads near,
Trying to wade through the selcouth fear,
Sending hopes through the fragile flesh,
Warming their soul bereft of any lush.

They strode over the clueless veining alley,
It was a steeply flexuous and flattening valley.
With every new step that they took ahead,
A strong sonant stung within their head.

With the unified silvery syllables of the string,
Aureolus gleam of hope laid out a new spring,
Carrying the new seed on their little hearts,
They stepped over the mysterious parts.

After few strides forward, glints of confidence embraced,
Adding pairs of wings to teach them courage,
As the rufescent of passion envisaged,
They flapped their new limbs to strive and manage.

With their new tries, Prakriti bestowed them,
With every element of life to nurture them,
Be it the blues of trust, and purples of ambition,
Or the greens of potential, and teals of protection.

She painted them with her ornate shades,
Letting them chirp the ballad of survival,
When she took shades of intelligence, the greys,
She stopped to assess if they would pass her trails.

The fledgelings flew high over ivory cloud,
Fluttering their gratitude amidst shines of the sky,
When raven smogs of ignorance enshroud,
With their brightest beam, every joy became envy.

The scattering rays of his sharp nettles,
Dancing vigorously to assess their abilities,
It was Purush, the lord of espionage,
But to the birds, he was their insatiable cage.

Between their strong shudders and quivers,
Both birds flew towards him past their rumbles,
The path taught them pride, greed and anger,
And the wrath of burning desires in mumbles.

Shimmers of colours faded into nothingness,
As the evils rode the essence into ruthlessness,
One bird halted than flying through the murks,
It took a turn towards the start, the riddling spark.

The other bird sprinted towards him with no doubt,
But failed to retain its purity over its deadly scouts,
So did it get burnt into ashes in his flaming rain,
Getting lost to be born to repeat the sorcery.

While the retreating bird turned coloured again,
Blessed to live, it breathed sphere of love,
It reaped their warm chuckles; spills of divine secrecy,
It knew not that it had conquered everything below and above.

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