The end is always painful:
But end shall be all pain
the lily will close her sprightly wing
hiding her face in mud.
When there is an end
there is a beginning
beauty is born never to die
save the stabs of insensibility.
Love is always there to awaken
the moss on dull pavements
yet it is never ever full,
it searches for noble hearts
to bloom like a Rose.
The beginning, middle and
thousand ends die to new births
but he who loves and she who
opens petals never face any end.
Sabita Sahu
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