Light is getting dim, the eyes of the sun are getting blind.Man is jostling and running, searching and hoping to find.
Life is a mystery within a mystery,unfolding with every tale of history.we breathe, we feel, we touch,we taste,we hear.
but within us,lies that which we really fear.year after year and month after month,we conceive ideas and yet they fly away like a moth.days pass,hours and minutes elapse..but a few seconds could be the difference when running life's laps.
Are success and failure illusions or just polar opposites? Do they take us forth or back or are the just brothers in sync.
Each person has his sea of difficulty.heads first and feet in the air we take the plunge, diving till we hit the depths and all we taste is salty.
Hence we hold no rights to decide or judge.tick goes every man's clock, we labour till beads of sweat display our work..we look forward to tomorrow, fanning embers of hope. our fate dangles on it, whispering swings of tarzan's rope.
Buried in the crux of our mind is the instinct to survive,to never back down..to never give up or give in,we buzz on like bees in a hive.
Is a man to compete with himself? or to knock others off with words or swords to complete his shelf.
So is the man in context termed helpless.Does his inevitable end highlight his actions and brand his activities senseless.
Behind the curtains of every heart, is a little library..a catalogue of every thought and reason,the hub of the human person..bustling like pistons in a ferari's engine.
the acts of today sprout tomorrow, watered by words and intentions..to harvest produce of joy or sorrow.
since life is most likely a game of chess, we brood over our next move, its effect we try to analyse or guess.
checkmate and its time up, with all of life's trickery and misrepresentation..no one wants to be a flop.