English poem3

the rise is pleasant
the dawn is sobering
the path is pleasant 
when some smile
penetrate 
our lives
to blossom it
the individual world,
much delicate,
not let the pessimism.
enter and starts,
residing in one,
all need not be,
given cognizance,
and the excuse may help,
sometime,
the external cant be,
fixed and merged,
the self need to,
merge with objects,
with objectivity.
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