We must want to know,
We should desire to know;
The actual definition of life,
The meaning of life,
The purpose of life,
The directions of life;
And, why for select few,
It's a precious stone.
And, for a gone awry,
It's an awful discard.
Ask a mother how,
Precious her child is,
Whether willing or unwilling;
Ask a mother, how,
She channeled her blood,
Over the years to ripen,
The seeds that planted,
To growth until the day.
Ask a father, how
Relentless he perspired,
Over the years to shower,
The plants for development;
Alas! What cruel a joke,
Does the mysterious time play?
In one stroke of abruptness,
Takes the valued life away.
It comes, and it goes,
It does not stay to mourn,
And, to see the grief-stricken.
It remains as fleeting as ever,
Leaving the modal set-up,
To ponder and to act,
In vigil, and in conciliation.
Show us the light once,
We want to be flies once;
Glow up the unlit candle,
Lighten the severe darkness.
Much of which resides within,
With you, the radiance went away.
Beam your torch to our hearts,
From where we may get back,
All those cheerful ways of life,
Night lamps and the stars weak enough,
For they cannot handle this darkness.
Be the bearer of the lighted torch,
And we'll light up the shadows.
Copyright © 2012 Sanjeev Kumar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem