Every step upwards means,
the leaving of something behind...
The sky is covered with dark clouds,
amidst them sparkles the ray of hope...
Slowly, I creep into your thoughts,
bringing about a transformation...
The state of darkness
accelerates our delight in the sunlight...
Never did I think that,
fate will bring me to the point...
Three pairs of old legs
and three strong sticks...
Time moves at an unceasing pace.
The passage of time, brings in its wake...
We poets are farmers still,
ploughing our mind in the invisible field...
An old man and a tired stick,
are preparing themselves...
The birds I see in the azure sky,
appear as a victim in the hand of pride...