Read #1 book on Hinduism and enhance your understanding of ancient Indian history.
Read #1 book on Hinduism and enhance your understanding of ancient Indian history.

Mirage

Mirage

1 min 237 1 min 237

What is life? An illusion, a mirage my dear, with woods so lovely calling you my child,

I crept slowly, caught his hands, but was it enough my dear?

Saw a distant dream, will it turn to reality?

Emotions were there that day, presently too, the sweet touch roams all over the body, the feelings of enchanting, hardly expressed but fairly seldom holds your hand.


Fly high! We act roles varied and wild,

A career of pride and vanity

The dream to be best in every sphere,

but it's never vaiable my dear.

Man is mortal, hard is truth,

but why the effort to earn my dear,

The pretty issues, the rat race we entangle,

left will be the footprints in sand.


Did you cry? Why? Feel like a bird,

Reach the sky and still eye beneath,

Relish dreams, strive hard, only a wink of a smile is needed,

What is left is an overly elation.

A poem, like this of mine, is no different

life is like a poem -a mirage my dear!


Rate this content
Log in

More english poem from Sylvia Eaton

Similar english poem from Abstract