The wind howls in angry protest for none can hear the breeze.. Pushing and shoving and hitting all in its way. Attuning every sense to its angry protests.. Tired of remaining invisible unseen. It twirls sheets of rain into whirlpools of mayhem.. Racing heartbeats witness this grandeur. What eyes can grasp only in aftermath.. Bending Nature to its will.. leaving glorious impressions of its physical presence.
Saturday, 1 November 2025
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Happy clues
Walked to the clouds dancing rhythmic, fluid, gleeful patterns across the sky. The sun playing hide-and-seek with me—firing far-off windows ...
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The hills dressed up in brilliant shades of green, weaving unique patterns at the whim of the wind.. the dark clouds raced down in admiratio...
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Love the early hours when, sometimes, the pearly light of the moon — bewitched — welcomes the rose of dawn. A divine beauty in each. The sky...
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The dark clouds rush in chasing, melding into every bit of space, the wind exhilaratingly at their back, they roar in jubilant revelry, irre...
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