By Atharv Sharma
Moving past,
Like a breeze through springs,
Winds through scents,
Gravel through ruins;
Accepting all their qualities,
And not flinching, regretting
my own, unique ones;
However desolate, hueless they might be.
Realization of one's strength,
One's ability to bring a change
Is the key to all joys.
Accept the present,
And let loose of past,
Like flying florets of dandelions;
And you'll know,
You don't need any validation.
That springs wait for the breeze,
Scents for the winds,
Debris for currents,
And glee for you,
To just, move on.