The poem is an attempt at understanding the essence of endurance and firmness. Your impressions, your life will be lost, not known, forgotten into the limitlessness, if you don’t stand up, stand tall, stand firm to the problems that bash you hard. The serene, tranquility after the blow is more dangerous than the blow itself.
Standing by the sea shore,
repleting my eyes with the glaring glimpse of horizon,
the waves creasing my bare pedes,
as if palpating, water gushing through my toes,
my feet burying into the sand swiftly,
and, I think of the old times.
The boy fabricating a fort,
tacking together the clumps of sand bits,
a chassis standing firm but of sand,
in-cognizant of the realm of the seas,
the waves not to pardon, adamant, wipes away
cascading the walls, as if penalizing for usurpation.
A brisk run to his father,
complaining loosely,crying over the fortified sand,
he listens diligently as his father exclaims,
“a fort of sand on a bed of sand does not stay for long”,
the ordeal you will endure, upon a striking wave,
but hold firm, for all sand of fort is swept back when waves backtrack”.
The lesson not understood until now,
speaks to me today, the problems, the waves,
hit life, hit the fortified sand, and, the coercion to scramble remains stiff,
but stand firm, for you may keep part of felicitous life, part of sand,
lesser time to rebuild it again, for if you don’t fight,
as I moved away, my impression on sand were wiped away, as if they never existed.