We set out from our homes
With aspirations bright
A bag pack of skills
And a sceptre of perfection
A potion of blessings
To keep company
We are complete.
Through the low nights
And during the blazing noons,
Through the hard needles of showers,
Until we reach the land of flowers,
We unravel
Secrets of the deep and the dark
We gain and yet sometimes loose
We fathom
Through the layers wise
And make our axioms
On a quiet night however,
When we plunge in retrospection
A star shines bright
Connecting and completing the picture
We are but one glowing dot from the many
And the canvass completes
With the treasure of family lineage
All encompassing and strengthening
A synecdoche of life.