With Big Questions Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

With big questions

It is blessing
That we miss something
As imperfection is called
It is mysteriously walled

We want no similarity
As each things are standing with peculiarity
Trees are different
So the flowers at present

Even fragrance goes in air
With unique flare
Making it lovelier
So people feel happier

For time being we forget pain
And go in open
To take look at nature
And come back with fresh reassurance

Had it been the identical?
We could have not been called individuals
There could have remained confusion
Inviting all problems with big questions