A mist of the morning dew on the leaf tips,
Is it the clouds of the autumn?
Or a lamp without oil or a flickering candle.
It is like ripples in waters,
A gust of wind or a drop from the cloud
On the parched land.
I guess its a game of hide n seek,
Where sorrows seek for joy and if joy is
Caught then it has to spy on sorrow.
It is a jigsaw puzzle that gets is final shape
When the life is ceased to be.
Life is a perfect blend of delight and do lour,
A mural with all colours, hues and tinges.
A book with each page as a door,
That turns on the magic hinges.
Life is an enigma with secrets concealed,
To be discovered each moment and taken by
Horns.
