Survival…
S K Iyer
In the garden of thoughts,
I
came across a grasshopper,
Nature's tiny little creature,
Hopping in
pursuit of survival.
Why does it live, a life of mere existence?
Why
does it survive? 'Cause it is a reality?
On the day of its life's
finale,
With nobody to mourn its death,
With no memorials, no
prayers,
The poor soul would rest in peace.
From the boiling pot of
emotion,
Originated a steam of passion,
Cooled by an air of
imagination,
Crystallized drops of glassy thoughts,
Just to wither away in
the heat of pathos.
Between the two extremes,
The fibril of life
stretches,
Throughout the length, I hop,
From one place to another
in
pursuit of survival.