Reflections are many
On its way it's lean
Beyond the canvas it's a hurdle
But the bunches are providence
There above its fathom counts
All are mere the reflections
But its ranges are indefinite
Vacuum that reflects always
Up above it's not a screen
But the wisdom that measure from heights
Days are counted with whisper
All projections are hoarded
Measure the size of deficit
Prior count the indulgence
All performance is monitored
Rest will follow as its boon! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
©2014 SALINI.S.NAIR. All rights reserved
Yes everything is predestined think not by thought to escape fate........very well composed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Up above it's not a screen But the wisdom that measure from heights Days are counted with whisper All projections are hoarded A wisdom of thoughts, some is predestined and some depends on efforts.