This life is a recondite transit
Where our paths might be unknown
We would stop at varied crossroads
When confused at those strange zones
The sky each day may differ
There could be sun, there could be rain
It could be blue or could be orange
But on the next pace, it could be grey
And if ever the times get harsh
That we might stumble and fall
Just remember we're not alone
In going through tight bouts at all
Life is a creek of promises
Springing from heavens above
The rain of life will flow on us
We should welcome the gift of love
But like a battlefield we know
What we purport is to survive
In this platform of test and ventures
After each fall, we must revive
Life is survival of the fittest
The world is a precarious place
Don't be that weak who cannot soar
Be like an eagle, conquer the space.
For the "TEN WORDS I GIVE" CONTEST where I have to use the following words in poem:
STOP
ORANGE
GREY
STUMBLE
CREEK
HEAVENS
BATTLEFIELD
PLATFORM
WEAK
EAGLE
Thanks for the inspiration....no writer's block this time. :)