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The Little Things

*pic courtesy from pinterest  The little things the little smile the little flower in the corner aisle the little butterfly catches my eye along with  the hovering bee like sketches drawn in the sky look at the little ant fleet just close to my feet the little spider takes a warm seat the little girl who hops on the broken tile while her mother looks right across  the street from a mile I wave at her she waves back the little gestures the little fingers the little spider continues to linger the little heartbeats as humming treats while I pick up the little crumbs from my bread last night

Religion

Jumping on toes..
As I ring the bells..
Stood at the door..
With folded hands..
Eyes on my deity.
For in the temples.
She dwells..
Smelling the fresh..
Flowers..
With a tinge of firewood..
Vermilion mesh..
On my forehead..
Colored red.
Carvings in stone..
Said artistic stories alone..
Where souls..
Found peace.
When moments cease..
We steal puddings..
Getting into..
Gruesome fight.
Yet the essence of delight..
In the end..
It wasn’t worth ones plight.
A smiling beggar..
Hugging her baby tight.
The floor seems frivolous..
With devotees hurdled in tonight.
Seeking hideouts..
We utter play outs..
Hymns chanted..
Getting louder shout spouts.
Running into every corner..
To explore..
There’s worship behind every door.
The crowd multiplies..
Pride denies..
With subtle cries.
Kneeling down..
Touching the floor with their head.
Many hearts bled..
As they remember the days of dread.
Under every hood..
As we close our eyes..
The religion which binds us all..
Is Childhood.

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