Towards Fulfilment Poem by Varghese J Kuttikat

Though I may never reach the peak loftiest,
There is a certain joy very real in setting out.
Though I may never hope to excel a lark heavenly,
Let me sing out a note of my own, however worldly.
Though the garden I fondly raise lacks Edenic grace,
That is a garden nevertheless, and I can rightly rejoice.
Though all children are lovable and command my love,
It is right to love my children most indulgently, uniquely.
I shall be content with just a flower, though I dream of bloom