Poem - The Path Of Life (Symbolic)

by Monojit Dutta 09:00 0 comments short poems

The Path Of Life

I was traveling on an unknown road,

Which was half-paved and quite broad.

It was sloppy and slightly bent,

God knows where would it end?

The road was uneven with too much turns,

Sides were barren where light burns.

And my eyes were dazzled by light so bright.

I hurried a bit to escape the light,

But soon stopped eyeing the first sign of life;

They were sowing seeds with so much care

As if their own children were lying in layers!

The sight was too good to stand and stare,

But I moved on without too much care.

Then I saw them watering the seeds,

Nourishing and protecting them with too much heed.

I wondered whether they did the same,

When a baby was born to them!

As life moves on, so did I too,

And met a grand scene,

Where the small plants were dancing in cold loo;

Small plants hardly of some days,

Dancing and smiling in all possible ways.

As I moved on, I saw plants weaving their hands,

Plants which were growing up and firmly fixed to the land;

Even then the guardians were taking utmost care,

To nourish and protect them so that no one else could dare.

These plants reminded me of my half-forgotten days,

I soon realized I was too old for such gay;

Their leaves were green and so were they,

What a lively childhood, there was nothing to say!

To stand and stare is a big crime,

So I moved on, as did time;

Plants had grown up and had turned into small trees,

And their enjoyment and liveliness,

Were snatched to a certain degree.

I need to be careful now due to unseen pitfalls

But I would move on to see what's there so tall!

So far the sides were nearly equal,

But then there was a total distinction

One was illuminated by sunlight,

While the other was in darkness, as if illusion.

I tried to make out what lay behind darkness.

Yes, there were trees which had lost their grace and tenderness;

They are bent and broken fruitless tress unlit even in sunlight!

I concentrate my sight on the brighter side,

Where trees stand tall with full of pride;

Some had got the fruits of their labor and some were yet to get,

Rather sure to get.

Slowly I progressed, as did moon,

And reached its end quite soon;

I was quite astonished

To see the withered trees.

Trees were perishing leaving no trace,

But there were some standing with grace.

They had no leaves but had thick stems and were tall.

They were dead but still alive and would never die at-all.

The road had now vanished in complete darkness.

I left it for some other day and showed no courageousness.

“Fair Is Foul and Foul Is Fair”

I couldn't dare to utter it here.