on being splendid..and glorious..narrator of the times...that had gone by...the one had some more magnificent decks to roll,
the rolls were of those golden periods....that had all the grandeur vistas to narrate...in a typical glibbing ways...with proper words.. no intents to ensue a brawl,
in being splendour...the travels or the journeys of life in one's own life...are just too mesmerizing..too engrossing..and too full with all those pleasant trails,
the fights end in severe destruction...the love nurtures meaningful constructions...the perisher is forgotten..the cherish er is forever..passion succeeds..detest fails,
a treasure is collection...a magnificent basket that is too full with....all that is precious..all that is worthy..to be with or to have,
splendour of its is not in terms of materialism always...its about all that go along..virtues, natures, wittiness, enjoyer..etc..a kind of quality suave,
splendid are the splash of the seven colors..the true traversed spread..over the horizons..wanting to shower its love..from its bows,
the universe jumps into joys.. caught between rays and the rains.. as the drops..get shined as colors..that are on ways to touch the earthy lows....
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