trace their origins....
'tis too late....
as you will never find em
at one deigned place....
they have no heels to trace....
can you now them replace
make do will you...
you have the requisite grace...
your God alone will for you...
your happiness retrace....
with some one elses' skirts lace....
then leave her for being a disgrace...
with your embellished grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deceitfulness is the history of living and breathing matter and that forced many thinkers to rule that life on this planet is merely an accident, a bye product or a process loss. But a question arises then where is the perfect product in this endless universe?
you may answer that also AJ