A daunting feeling of losing
Of what I have.
But what I have is the question.
A habit of reading,
A guitar to strum,
A lady to love,
A computer through which I learn.

What will I lose when nothing is mine?
Everything came from His grace,
From His shrine.

Even if I did, why this fear?
That too would be in my fate.
Oh, dear,
Why do I hold this pride?
There are still people with talent—supreme.

Go away, this feeling—what a wasteful scene.
I want to settle as a stoic.
Yes! A difficult goal,
But only through perseverance will I score.