The Journey of Life
I rose from the east, travelling west
With bright eyes, looked at the earth,
With my warmth to many, I gave birth,
I know in the west I have to rest,
To my back are the loud laughing faces,
Living merrily with love ones enjoying lives,
Going in evening with gifts in hands to hives,
In front are those who have run, won the races,
How many of the flowers will store my name,
A sun that once on them dim but shone,
Some will come and read my name on the Stone,
With my flesh will perish my name and fame,
But I have people in front of me, waiting,
No reason to scold west no reason for hating.
poem by Jahan zaib
Added by Poetry Lover
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