Sometime i think <br />i am choosing pebbles <br />on the sea shore of poetry <br />and be drunken with its muse <br /> <br />But i feel rare even to choose <br />even a single pebble <br /> <br />The pebble lying on the sea shore <br />is being driven out of my reach <br />by the strong waves of sea <br />and only sands are coming <br />to my hand and sliding <br />leaving my hand empty <br />appears my poetry is incomplete <br /> <br />I feel myself <br />is it my disappointment <br />to write poetry <br />to navigate my thoughts <br />for a realistic life <br />where life be bloomiing <br />with full fragnance <br />not in order to disanimate percipient <br /> <br />The juncture of my life <br />assubjugate all my possibilities <br /> <br />Life is blooming in its own course <br />and find out the gateway <br />for a better tomorrow <br />juxtaposition to my views <br />and analysis <br /> <br />so need not to worry <br />let it go and be happy.<br /><br />ramesh rai<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-muse-36/
