Mirthful Fiction

The words of the heart drifts through
the heart to heart,
The snow is depicted with a dew dust,
Oh, this bears a longed saga that
someday the people will be adorned with
a mirthful grant.

At the end of the daily work,  the divine voice will resonate in the sleepy state, in a joy of getting tired.

Hey the Almighty; I can hear your message
high up in a sky,
Someday, in a new dawn the conch will blow up whereby.