The Perfect Fruit

Every being by this fortunate birth,

Enters with a delightful duty, into mother earth;

Life thus shapes into a worthy attire,

Sculpted by one's own deepest desire.

An Ambassador for a devotional plan,

Or the republic's hero as a common man.

Our footprints are signs of a righteous life led,

Having none else to block or turn envious instead.

True achievements are anytime tough,

and the road towards, tearful more than enough.

And the real strength is to take that very terrible pain;

Graciously tasting, the solemn taste of gain.

A cup once prized belongs to the one;

Who just not won but cared about everyone.

This perfect fruit born is a privilege to the tree;

But envious at heart is sinful more than adultery.

Endless moments have indeed flown,

Soaring with failures in the very pathetic tone;

Just because of my very mad embrace,

To the traceless figure of envy in my race.

I finally feasted the essence of life;

By challenging hard through it, as my very sweet strife,

While Honest success is beautiful in hands;

Where envy is lost but charity demands.