Little hands reached out for the hanging fruit in the lush apple gardens of the dewy morning across the valley of Himalayas.

The fruit was eaten and the richness was felt

but a leaf was torn amidst all the sense

As the innocent laid there, on the ground

Just then the soaring wind came, with a bound

To what i owe you the pleasure, asked the roar

I have become a hollow, O the mighty whole

Let us go across, to those depths of the valley

To the sounds of heaven and, to the blissful alley

Take me with you to those majestic views

For now i have been taken away from my roots

The wind and the leaf took the long sail

across the fields and, the mountain trail…

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