P3

POEM 3

“He was cheerful And never careful, Blossomed like flower In shower Of life, Which flowed like a river. He was the driver Of the boat That floats, On creek With same breeze. But one day he died He never cried, Out his pain As death was his sole aim. Never realized Everyone was amazed And gazed, At the change Changeover Was ocular. Then the boy awoke one day He became a man, He ran In frenzy To see changeover, It wasn’t ocular Lost his marbles. Muddled He pondered And wondered, What had metamorphosed? Kept pondering, And wondering To realize it’s just the transmutation of consciousness.”

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