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Seraphine Lumiere

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Elijah's window, a portal to the past and future, stands in a room bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Its frame, ancient and intricately carved, bears the marks of time—stories etched in wood. The glass, clear as a spring morning, is a canvas for the sun’s farewell, capturing hues of amber and rose. Through this window, the world outside transforms into a living poem. The sky, a vast expanse of deepening blue, is speckled with the first stars of evening, whispering secrets of the cosmos. The horizon blurs, blending the silhouette of distant mountains with the soft veil of mist rising from the earth. A solitary tree, gnarled and wise, stands sentinel just beyond the pane. Its branches, like arms outstretched, cradle the memories of seasons past—each leaf a verse, each knot a stanza. In the breeze, they murmur lullabies and legends, a chorus of nature’s enduring song. As shadows lengthen, the window reflects an inner world. It is a mirror of contemplation, where thoughts drift like clouds, forming and reforming, an ever-changing tapestry of mind and spirit. Here, dreams take flight, unhindered by the constraints of reality, and the soul finds solace in the gentle ebb and flow of time. Elijah's window is not just a view, but a journey—a passage to a realm where every glance is a story, every moment a cherished memory. It is a threshold between the mundane and the mystical, where the heart learns to see with the eyes of a poet. ©Seraphine Lumiere #sad_quotes elijah's window

Elijah's window, a portal to the past and future, stands in a room bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Its frame, ancient and intricately carved, bears the marks of time—stories etched in wood. The glass, clear as a spring morning, is a canvas for the sun’s farewell, capturing hues of amber and rose. Through this window, the world outside transforms into a living poem. The sky, a vast expanse of deepening blue, is speckled with the first stars of evening, whispering secrets of the cosmos. The horizon blurs, blending the silhouette of distant mountains with the soft veil of mist rising from the earth. A solitary tree, gnarled and wise, stands sentinel just beyond the pane. Its branches, like arms outstretched, cradle the memories of seasons past—each leaf a verse, each knot a stanza. In the breeze, they murmur lullabies and legends, a chorus of nature’s enduring song. As shadows lengthen, the window reflects an inner world. It is a mirror of contemplation, where thoughts drift like clouds, forming and reforming, an ever-changing tapestry of mind and spirit. Here, dreams take flight, unhindered by the constraints of reality, and the soul finds solace in the gentle ebb and flow of time. Elijah's window is not just a view, but a journey—a passage to a realm where every glance is a story, every moment a cherished memory. It is a threshold between the mundane and the mystical, where the heart learns to see with the eyes of a poet. ©Seraphine Lumiere #sad_quotes elijah's window

abhishek sharma

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किसी को अच्छे से जानने मे वक़्त लगता हैं! किसी को अच्छे से समझने मे वक़्त लगता हैं! ©abhishek sharma #window

किसी को अच्छे से जानने मे वक़्त लगता हैं! किसी को अच्छे से समझने मे वक़्त लगता हैं! ©abhishek sharma #window

Prince Kaushal

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चमके बिजली बरसे बादल कोई खिड़की पर इंतजार करे भीगे बदन को गले से लगाकर कोई तीखी सी तकरार करे दिखते हैं चेहरे हजारों कोई एक तो ये स्वीकार करे नहीं चाहिए हमें जिस्म वाला कोई आँखों से ही प्यार करे ©Prince Kaushal #window

चमके बिजली बरसे बादल कोई खिड़की पर इंतजार करे भीगे बदन को गले से लगाकर कोई तीखी सी तकरार करे दिखते हैं चेहरे हजारों कोई एक तो ये स्वीकार करे नहीं चाहिए हमें जिस्म वाला कोई आँखों से ही प्यार करे ©Prince Kaushal #window

indefinite_mirage

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White Finally, there is a closed window at the end of the room, peering in the bright light right at the spotless centre, giving it the clarity that the other parts of the room along with the darkened corners envied, only wishing for a storm to pass and break open the window let the light through and touch wherever it's ridden of, let the spring air follow through to take over the murkiness of this dwelling and cleanse it. ©indefinite_mirage closed window #GoodMorning Bhagyashree Jena Dristi Dash UnHeardकवि

White Finally, there is a closed window at the end of the room, peering in the bright light right at the spotless centre, giving it the clarity that the other parts of the room along with the darkened corners envied, only wishing for a storm to pass and break open the window let the light through and touch wherever it's ridden of, let the spring air follow through to take over the murkiness of this dwelling and cleanse it. ©indefinite_mirage closed window #GoodMorning Bhagyashree Jena Dristi Dash UnHeardकवि

Ubaida khatoon Siddiqui

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जिस तरह कुछ पौधे बिना पानी या बिना ज्यादा धूप के बड़े होते हैं जिंदा रहते हैं, उसी तरह कुछ इंसान भी बिना किसी दुलार- प्यार के बड़े हो जाते हैं और जिंदा भी रहते हैं । 23/4/24 ⏰5:31 p. m. @ubaidakhatoon✍️ ©Ubaida khatoon Siddiqui #window #Ubaidakhatoon #ubaidawrites #Thoughts

जिस तरह कुछ पौधे बिना पानी या बिना ज्यादा धूप के बड़े होते हैं जिंदा रहते हैं, उसी तरह कुछ इंसान भी बिना किसी दुलार- प्यार के बड़े हो जाते हैं और जिंदा भी रहते हैं । 23/4/24 ⏰5:31 p. m. @ubaidakhatoon✍️ ©Ubaida khatoon Siddiqui #window #Ubaidakhatoon #ubaidawrites #Thoughts