They can revolt

And the roots that can go beneath the soil, live in dark and fight against gravity to make you stand,can also revolt.And it wont stop until it makes you fall, not even at the cost of its end.

Summer of March

There was a dream in a chilly winter night, half seen and just began.
It needed one more night to complete that castle, move towards a place where it rains.But as the morning shined, It was a summer of march that left her asleep for ages.

Beauty

The soul of a pencil can break, if the hands that hold it are rough.
It bleeds and looses its life on paper,
And still very easily allows, its last signs to be erased.
you can call an art made from it as beautiful,
But what about those empty thrown away papers with hidden stories,
...secrets that never got a chance to unfold,
and some still left incomplete.
Beauty, does it not lies everywhere?