Some are buried alive.
Some enjoy a long life,
Some from yourself you hide.
On the canvas of eyes, painted by the heart,
Some enjoy a long life,
Some from yourself you hide.
On the canvas of eyes, painted by the heart,
Some come true, some scuffled in life's mart.
They make you smile and make you cry,
Without water of love they dry.
From the womb of experience, they make birth,
Strong will shows them the firth.
Happiness they spread when come true,
Broken terrible pains grew.
Good and bad such are dream,
Their fulfillment soul aim seems.
If destiny had be, they spread color bright.
Or else life becomes listless - a sad sight!
(Note : I read this poem in 'Insight' few days back. I wish to share this with everyone. Author - Anonymous)
Without water of love they dry.
From the womb of experience, they make birth,
Strong will shows them the firth.
Happiness they spread when come true,
Broken terrible pains grew.
Good and bad such are dream,
Their fulfillment soul aim seems.
If destiny had be, they spread color bright.
Or else life becomes listless - a sad sight!
(Note : I read this poem in 'Insight' few days back. I wish to share this with everyone. Author - Anonymous)
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