Thats where we were sculptured by the God till perfection, with no wrong.
The cradle is pushed and it glides to reach His creation below,
Unaware are we within the cradle, innocent and yet to know.
With the blessing within those petals, we take our first breath,
And the journey of life begins from here, till our death.
Our mind as soft as clay, our heart as pure as gold,
Tender and amicable, can be pushed into any mold.
Just as pure and fresh as a patch of washed white sand,
With nothing yet inscribed on it, purely simple and bland.
Our life is so clear and straight with no loops or turn,
With no hidden thoughts within, the lessons we are yet to learn.
In those moments, we just give back what we receive from people around,
Whether its love or hatred or pure affection, to nothing we are bound.
But as life unfolds itself, the changes not deliberate we see,
Impossible to avoid them, they are surely meant to be.
Steps in, a cycle of hidden expressions, so shallow and fake,
Pretension creeps in slowly with relations just for namesake.
We ourselves entangle our lives, loading up our mind and heart,
Forgetting that life is a boon, ripping it off apart.
Selfishly we sink in competition with even our neighbour beside,
Pacing up aimlessly without any destination or guide.
Its just a vague effort to be happy and an apparent sense of accomplishment,
Forgetting that nothing is permanent, we are just here to spend sometime under God's rent.
Its only when its time to leave, we realize life's worth,
The worth of all the love and ties, now feeling its dearth.
Its only when its time to leave, we remember our cradle in which we were done,
Those blessings and petals are still there, we never paid attention.
We go back in the same Cradle carrying all our goodwill and sin,
The only change is that, now it is called a COFFIN.
No comments:
Post a Comment