• syedaummekulsum_ 37w

    We all live, thinking we are living to its fullest, we are right and are enjoying; without knowing the actual meaning of enjoyment, good things, not so good things, life, etc.
    until we understand the actual meaning and purpose of life we are just like the wandering birds who have no destination to reach, no aim.
    This poem can be dedicated to our guides, mentors, friends, who show us the right path.
    I dedicate it to my ‘True Friend’.
    when these guides go away from us, it depends on us if we will fly or sink down...

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    Wandering bird

    Wandering bird, flying the heights
    Unaware of the beauty, which in the below lies.
    From the horizon it witnessed the ground,
    Also negligent of the environment around.

    The wind made allies with the bird,
    Just to give direction to its flight.
    It moved the bird higher up lower below,
    Just for it to feel the beauty in the hollow.

    The wind cautioned the bird,
    Of the tornadoes and storms.
    It also taught, how to
    Tackle it n be at it norms.

    With every flap of its wings,
    The bird grew stronger.
    Its perception broadened to,
    The world which was yet a stranger.

    It now had learnt that,
    It just knew to sail but not to fly.
    And now, it wanted to fly;
    High up and deep below,
    Unleashing the beauty of
    Every nook and corner of the globe.

    When suddenly the wind ceases....