From water to waterfalls.

The walk past the time that sprawls.

In wisdom it is often said,

That age is just a number,

But it shows it's occurrence,

It's being, so supplant.

Alike human beings,

The walls also show, their growth.

Well, is it appropriate to compare,

And rightful to say so, how they equally appear?

Material things and immaterial,

Oh my God, what is not and what is real?

That happiness is but a question of being special.

How we feel so; is it, in royalty or by serving,

That dreams once again freshen.

Yes, relations go like this;

This way, that the equality sums up,

It shows how we are meant to be together.

Thoughts that match, celebrate themselves,

And not rust and cremate upon the sheer sense.

Oh my Lord, the winter Lords,

Flash upon thy ceiling walls,

Tell me, for what is ice and what is snow.

Oh winter Lords, ascertain the weather,

nurture the bough, in rains thy temperament,

is pleasant, and fore-places the lore.

Oh gentle birds fly at a level so high,

In winters, they coat their wings, only then fly.

I wonder, how they maintain their luminous,

In the thunderous composition,

Within which they fly,

Without any complaints or humanly sighs.

They soar higher and on, until feel the need,

To stop en route, and lavishly dine,

In the atmosphere, that forms chill, and to their lives,

cast yet another high.

I meet a bird, it tells;

Me the truth behind its' life.

It's all in holding a rope in a hand

and feeling the lightness,

of the colour so white

and blue over the sky.

What happens then, when;

There's no one to hold you back,

But, your vision and conviction;

In life's yet another ride,

Over the hills of charisma,

And the rhythmic sensations,

Under the weather of symphony,

Alike, the weather of sting, so wide.

All in all,

It's another chance,

To live, dance and stroll;

The walk past the days of youth,

As enters the ride to its' yet another phase,

Being old and celebrating, the highs, the stalls.