The Mortal Journey

Like a pink bud by a river bank

Or a hatched bird from a broken time span

Is born a new born from its little dreamy den. 

A cautionary silence of a dwell 

Is suddenly broken by a simple dong

Of the baby's crying bell.

A cry so new and air so warm was proudly welcomed and embraced

By a happy mother sitting beside baby's bed. 

Who then poured out her heart to feed-

To care and to bless her child in need. 

Like a seedling in support of the fertile soil, 

Or a bird failing in its attempt to fly, 

A child learns to take his first step, 

Towards the new beginning of life, 

All awaits to see him speak and call out to his anxious mother by his side. 

Like a full grown plant trying to make his first leaf at its end - 

Or a bird who has caught his first prey-

The grown up boy danced in an uplifted grace 

As time kept getting spent at the cost of experience-

Desires once cut down to grades 

Follows up by getting paid well. 

Like the tree that has welcomed his fruits

Or the bird who is awaits warming his eggs

The boy has become a father 

By picking up on his chest, 

his golden daughter

Who enjoys her leisure in rest. 

Like the dried up log whom the soil calls - 

Or the bird loosing its feather 

One by one. 

The old man takes his last breath 

On the so-called death bed. 

And finally before an afterlife, 

He remembers the god in sight 

And requests him to be the Guide.