Preet Mendiratta


Clones Of The Queue

The choice of logic and the voice of imagination
The sheeps find trouble to choose
The acquired keepings are one of marvels
Replacing the acceptance is worth the lose
The state of being alone is an honour we take
The flowers that bloom of the meditative
Is one of power and of great faith
The herd is moving towards the freshest grass they can find
One which the eye spots a significance

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