To come close, they move so far.
Sides of river never meet as they pass.
And till the end, they don’t live together.
They expand and die,
They sacrifice for the better.

They’re never liked or loved,
With the sins they’re clubbed.
Somehow resembles the life of a saint,
Who left the world for good,
But somewhere inside he faints.
Memories are volatile, yes they fade.
But when it’s attached to the body,
Then in the soul resides the promises we made.

We too are clubbed with the sins that we never make,
It’s the culture, good or bad, not gonna change,
Not for you, me or even for God’s sake.
You never lay hands on them,
Those who accuse you for squeezing their throats out.
You never held gun in your hands,
They say you’re the one who fired rounds.
You’re bound, the things in a loop keeps coming around.
Yet you can’t do a single thing for it,
You’re forced to sit, with shredded feathers and feet tied to the ground.

Yes, it’s scary to fail,
But it ain’t a fairy tail.
Here you fail yet you live up,
Until you die or you give up.
But I’ll tell you a good thing about it,
Look at me or anyone around you,
It’s same for all, don’t worry the God counts you.
Just Forget the ones who leave,
And appreciate the ones who found you.
It’s how to live without constantly dying,
Love arrives just when you stop crying,
Success touches not who makes complaints,
As I told, Evil World—No Place For Saints,
Life’s easy for the one who maintains,
A balance amidst boons and banes,
Who remembers the reasons to smile,
Who doesn’t carry self along the disdains,
And the one who forgets the sources of his pains.
He shalt live to the full till he remains,
And when he dies, even the God cries,
In the form of countless tears with each drop of the rain.

By Vish


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