It's Reckoned

Reflections are many On its way it's lean Beyond the canvas it's a hurdle But the bunches are providence There above its fathom counts All are mere the reflections But its ranges are indefinite Vacuum that reflects always Up above it's not a screen But the wisdom that measure from heights Days are counted with whisper All projections are hoarded Measure the size of deficit Prior count the indulgence All performance is monitored Rest will follow as its boon! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ©2014 SALINI.S.NAIR. All rights reserved