The Riddles Of Life
You have believed the belief
Of yore and yonder you are.
There is no real rest or relief
To the course; here you are.
Guns are now groundnut bonanza
And trust tainted of truth in view.
Roses are rotten of its real agenda
Flowers are meant for evil anew.
Be not lost in the love of love for
Love is lost in lust; no one is just
But dust. All the coast of true-will
Are dead to the angel of kill at will.
This is the riddle of mother nature.
The paradox, meant for adventure.
Be be it as it may, be not dismay:
Your good heart shall surely pay.
I stand at bay watching-
Learning the language of my ink-
Learning how to handle my pen.
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