Oh! My life, what are you? Could anyone tell?
No, not a single person told it well.
Sometimes it is smooth and soft
As a lovely river, running slowly.
But sometimes! It is merely a roar
That pierces harshly the ear of listener.
For someone life is quite, calm and cool
For some others, at work, it is a tool.
Some enjoy it as a softly blowing soothing breeze
And some fear it as lightning burning things on the way.
Some obtain it as a shower in summer
That blooms the flora in colourful attire.
On some days it is a flood of tears
And some days it is fun and laughter.
Some find it as a dungeon with chains
And some use it as wings to fly freely.
Some feel it as a path to walk for bread
And some amass it as a treasure for pleasure.
Some people make it a shelter to rest
And some take it to work, as a spot so vast.
Some build it as a mansion of love,
Some create in it a hell of hatred.
Some turn as a road tarred to travel
And some hide in it, as in a cocoon for penance.
Some cook it as a dish delicious for eating,
Some need it as a chance apt for cheating.
Some change it, for success, into a venture
And some turn it into a matter of adventure.
Some mould it into a ware designed beautifully,
Some destroy it as a glass, into broken pieces.
For some people it is a reason for depression
And for some others it is a medium of self –expression.
Sometimes it becomes a mountain to be conquered,
Sometimes it appears as a valley to be occupied.
But life is nothing other than all these
And it keeps on, as a wheel, rolling-rolling.
Always out of it, let your self make the best,
And allow never it to be covered with rust.
Adopt steps that will lead you to be bold,
Reap you can then cent percent gold.