Saturday, December 12, 2009

Factory of frames



Toil by the sun,
Accompany the moon,
In rat race’s grease,
Envy poisoned breeze.

Yet a buoyant smile,
Flickers for a while,
Tears line the eye
When the air sly.

Yet with rouge grit,
Iron curtains slit,
Brief flicker resumes,
And Maya consumes.

All along the run,
An empire is spun,
Pouring drops of life,
Till heart’s last slice
They may vary in size
But each pays the price.

Davids and Goliaths
Travel eternal paths
At the end greets a flame
Then a photo frame.

For the souls less common
A bust is placed in garden;
Phenomenal achievements
Rewarded by monuments.

All the grit of guts
Results in life less frames.
All tussles in vain
Inherited is a factory of frames.

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