Trial

I had tried to fit in.

The meshes of your dualities

To choose weeds and ferns or chase the hilly terrain.

I have come to know weeds grow in slopes too.

That all blinks are not points of dices.

That your dulcet tune is often absorbing but centrifuge has always been my pipe.

I won't be your moon or the sun , they come by turns.

I am in love with those clouds. That though intercepts, seeks to bother none