My mother thinks I am the best writer in the world! I am sure no- one (including me) agrees to this.I would love to say "Mom's are always right" but the fact is "Love is blind and mother's love for her children is blinder".
I posted this picture that I clicked last week on Facebook and she asked me to write a poetry on this when I get time. Put together a few lines on my perspective as below.
The trees went out of their way, to strike an awesome pose,
Each of them waved at us, in neatly arranged rows,
The horizon with clouds dressed like a rewarding
destination,
We drove towards them, with no dearth of passion.
The wind blew into our faces with a panacean effect,
That’s when nature’s beauty, I began to respect.
We take the same road to work, every morning,
Never observing the signals, nature was giving.
For we were always busy overtaking the other cars,
Instead of enjoying the drive, we
fought futile wars.
This day we drove, rather slow,
Put nature under the lens, to
observe its glow.
Many a car zoomed past us,
To reach the destination, without
any fuss.
The clouds appeared like the
destination to them,
The faster they drove, the farther
it went.
It irked them a lot, their minds
were in mayhem.
For destination is an illusion; never
a constant.
We learnt from nature, that the
journey gives joy,
It taught that that slowing down; isn’t
a bad ploy.
Gather the ammunition, for there’s
a long way to go,
Only happy souls can transcend,
life’s journey like a pro.
Such sights in the arsenal, can
give internal peace,
Competing souls will miss this;
will never be at ease.
In our incessant quest for one-upmanship
and recognition,
We forget that the journey
rewards; not the destination.
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