Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Let us count our fears, one at a time,
Put them in a glass still, and boil them on the fire of our inner beauty.
Let the spirit of mirage boil away, leaving the nett sum for final assay.
I won't be surprised, neither you, it is a very known friend, who lurks,
Hides, in full day light, pretending he isn't there, wanting us to look the other way,
Selling us the story of the Turkey, who hid his head in the sands of pseudo Glory.
When he is certain, and he is the ultimate gift, the only pure love which HE can ever give,
Because from it rises the bloom of today's beat, the Cheetah in us wants to leap,
The spring from our rocks, wants to break free, The Bird within wants to flap and fly free,
The mind hurtles for the Velocity of light, seeking Freedom in full flight,
Because were it not for the Gift of Certain Death,
Life would have been living dead.