Nepal, July 18 -- Thy music, so mellow,

With bits of raining sounds

And thy orchestra, thy a capella where notes and colors rain,

But a drag that let thee down

When the mind is wreathed in shadows,

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For which the shadows engulf the silhouette of our mind,

Which maketh us chained for a spell to be casted upon-

A spell so vigorous, A spell so deafening, A spell so weakening,

A spell that giveth thee the most perfect smile.

Thou spreadest thy wings though thou canst not see,

Though when you sawest thyself, thou scrambled-

Scrambled in bliss or in despair-

And thou thought all thy life wast but a snare,

Though thy potential wast never touched by thee...