there was once a man who lived
in burnt rocky hills
village farmer frail and tilt
humble down to strips

and one day his wife fell sick
he took her in his hands
but in path for miles thick
one huge hill did stand

he knew but closest path to town
would take whole day on foot
if it weren't this hill around
get there sooner he could

even though he tried his best
kept his faith alive
yet he failed the time's test
could not save his wife

abruptly in his mind
did one thought arise
through conflicting reasons
to himself he surmised

"there'll always be dreams to live
tears to wipe, things to moan
to witness coiling stillness give
reason to your lonesome tone"

with this thought himself he backed
and let go of his fears
whom neither Gods could distract
he faced the mountain near

a modest hammer in hand
not for once dismayed
unfazed by its candid stand
he stood not once afraid

"for he was just some lunatic
who sold his goats for a chisel
for no man can do such trick
surely its all such drivel"

inch by inch he chipped away
just one stroke a time
when scorching sun endowed the day
heat fueled up his mind

seasons came and seasons went
men who mocked him too
turned to dust who crossed his way
yet he went going through

long before his life would cease
two decades marked his trial
all in sweat on forehead crease
and scratched on time's dial

and then arrived this moment
it surely had to come
for in pools of anguish spent
lilies of faith bear from

speak your will and do your speak
says the farmer's life
say you're strong when you feel weak
marching through your strife

for no paths does life forbid
it takes no account
keep on moving as he did
man who moved the mount