Taking off I knew my day was vain; I left with a mission that could soothe my pain...
The first step i took the second I fell, looking back it was a sign for life to be hell...
Pockets torn I saw a note hang, damn me, I was not worthy of this virtue and stand...
Hard rain welcomed me on the streets so grey; I was fumbling like never in the steps which lay...
I stopped beside a hut on my left, a kid lay naked, shaken and wept...
“My mother isn’t my hand or my hold, God never told me about this misery untold”,
My note was not the answer to his fright and sight, humanity in me was a brimming flight...
I smiled and said,” Be not wary of anything my boy, I am your saviour, your path and your reason of joy”...
The boy stood and gasped at this figure bereaved, it was GOD the disguised living hopeless and deceived...
“I look after children in the night so late, my duty isn’t a duty, and it’s meant to save your fate”...
The boy woke up to see himself at a place unknown, but a feeling saying that be belonged to that home...
An orphanage it was where he was got by GOD, looking up he smiled and shed a TEAR to the Lord...
"Pockets torn I saw.." and " My mother.." . A hand which has nothing for itself at the moment but something surely for someone. Being Human.
ReplyDeleteIts hard to get a hand like u...��
ReplyDeletethis poem is a master piece, it deserves to be read by the world, the play with words is remarkable, "it gives rise to a spark in the hearts of those that has turned grey" !!!!
ReplyDeletesuch a talent u have mr.jotwani!!
ReplyDelete