Hostage to fate



The faith of a man lies in his heart.

But meanders like the flesh of an ass.

It is never firm, but staggers like a drunk.

And when tilted to a point, it begins to fall.



But fate is here to stay.

Good or bad,It always display.

like a pebble cast in a pond.

Its ripples glimmer like Ray.



But hate was always present.

It swaggers in but never late.

It acts like a sister, they call her anti-faith.

But if it wins over us, they still label it fate.



We all are hostages of fate.

We pay the ransom that it ate.

She never leaves us in love or hate.

Even in afterlife, she is still our fate.