The map so being torn a million times
But countless dreams mastered cartography
The masses abstained from such crimes
Being mere witness to classic photography
Not caring for the status or the roots
All night with stars,all day with sun
Gazing for infinite, plucking the fruits
Slowing down when others try to run
Not taking in what from outside is fed
Doesn't conclude with thee being wrong
Hearing,not listening what is being said
Treading your own path even if so long
Those Tiny crystal corners ever sufficed
For the mad heart to beat with a dream
Sufferings of passion is a possession priced
For the few who dare but to row upstream!
-sana shah
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