Weeping Nature Poem by prita srini

The fate of a man is written in the womb,
what nature holds for him in its mysterious dome.
The sun the moon the sky the mountains,
the gold and silver rays and fountains,
do live and lend their glory to admire,
we live and take their dreams and desire.
The rays of the dawn that brightens our worl',
neither rises nor sets on its will, yet wished in its soul,
for a leisure under a shade and a chill from the rain,
in its heat it melted losing all and never gained.
To look into his eyes man never dared
listen to his wails stronger than its glare.
who has known him better?
The king of the night so calm and sound,
has wishes encased in its silver round,
millions of courtiers hang in and around,
twinkling with their heart pleasing the king.
When the night is deep and the stars are asleep,
he fills the ocean with his silient weeps.
as the dawn is close he hides himself,
or searches for a treasure with lifeless eyes.
A mother he loved or a lover he lost,
among poems, praises and worships,
who understood him better? .
The roaring seas had reasons therefore,
of the waves that stroke and stumble to the shore,
are tears of the sun and wails of the moon.
Much has been written of the beauty of the sea
who did know her better?
While the earth rolls on, on its own will,
why the mountains full of dignity stands so still?
as it rises high what it whispers to the sky,
at times a creek is heard from its breast,
natures wild it holds lies heavy on his chest.
Beneath at the core is an unstill mind,
that trembles and troubles aiming to wind.
The raining skys had reasons therefore,
it leaped to the ground dissolving to the floor.
Soaking the earth, sending chills to the sun,
easing the mountains, consoling the moon.
who understood them better?