To him, life a confront

To him, life a restraint

He always thinks, where this life

Came from and goes where to…

Whether it came from the thinker

or a worker?

But he seldom cries even in trial;

But, he is good thinker cum worker

He can shot the target without seeing it

Even a great shooter should salute him;

He can reach the far distance at his looks

Even a seer may fail to write in his books

To him, Colors - colorless are colorful

Wow, how beautiful his eyes are!

Sometimes he opens his eyes from ears

Magician indeed!

He unveils his brain through his eyes

He is very brave to defeat the nervous

He has a great stadium inside himself

Where the mind, heart, and soul play

The game of life and love;

Gulf engulfed by his gallantry  

All the cemeteries on his way give way to him;

His duplicates may not like him

But, he likes his replica to follow him

He is full formation with empty parts

Has no worry of non-functioning life

Even his defunct life sanctions himself, bliss

His life sings the prayer

But many lives will not find time even to chant

Cursed are blessed;

Blessed, may think they are deserved!

Who can flourish such a beautiful smile?

Never, the clothed flowers ever might!

Tears rain from heaven