The one step that counts
Is when I do it
Rather when I did
Was rather a joy
That particular day.
But I may now instill
In myself the rage
To step on
The decent flowers
That died only
To see me succeed
Their sacrifice
Might only convey
Had the love they bore
Towards my path.
My path is rather
Filled with curious thorns
Whom once killed
My dearest loved petals
They anxiously count on my steps
Which rather do I choose
Which direction is best
For the ultimate destination.
Which I know not
Of till yet
Do these thorns
Have a clue
As rather they want
My fate is equal to those flowers
Which showed me the light
And dark they shed.
Might I equal the forefathers
Of those little buds
Who knew somewhere around
That little child of theirs
Have courage enough to fight back
Of this mighty dark phase of the night
Before tasting the word success.
May I grow in soil
Some day, would I realize
How different it is
To protect some other organism
Rather than yourself
And besides, give everything
You have for the better of the world.
My only aim
Is to fulfill my duties
Towards my dear ones
Who in form of ancestors
Wished me grace
And the current
Torchbearers of my soul
Who love me nevertheless.
This way I'm told
Every positive beam
Increase the pace
And every negative beam
Test the efficiency
Of the journey
To bite the sweet of success.
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