Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Show Must Go On

dreams as i say
are the reasons of my stay
everyday a new one
makes my life gr8 fun...

brick by brick, i lay the foundation
with firm and sheer dedication
trying to complete with clay and soil
not caring how much ever i have to toil

whether its stromy weather or blazing sun
i have to go on and get things done
continuing with firm determinaton
hoping one day it will be a fine creation

but even after so much effort
there are some corners i find desert
all of a sudden, i am baffled
there was sumthing tht shattered my castle

now i want to figure out
that ruthless mischievious tout
or was it just destiny
that destroyed it leaving me lonely

wht was the reason of this happening
it has left me so much puzzled, so stunning!
but then i need to understand
tht everything has a purpose and a stand

i realise tht its all for a purpose
maybe foundable or maybe suspense
but there s god above us all
who is watching n grinning at all

he must have done all this with something in his mind
he maybe harsh, but his heart s kind
he wants to teach us a leason
only we need to have the correct perception

irrespective of its dusk or dawn
i have to continue , since show must go on.

Written In Early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sat reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What Man has made of Man.

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure -
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What Man has made of Man?

-William Wordsworth