So much of Water
Too Little Buckets
Spillage is But Natural
Alas it falls on the Tables
Dried to come back
Cycle Continues
Millions of Years
Ensuring that every droplet
Enters the Bucket….

Soul's journey, like water's flow,
From realms unknown to Earth, they go.
Buckets few, spills are bound,
Life's dance, a cycle profound.

On earthly tables, they briefly rest,
Droplets of spirit, each a guest.
Dried to return, a timeless spree,
A cosmic cycle, the soul's journey.

Millions of years, this celestial spin,
Unique droplets, each with a kin.
Back and forth, they play their part,
In the grand dance, a cosmic art.

Extreme Uniqueness
Strong and Sturdy
Eventually falls apart.
Food , Clothes , Beliefs or Languages.
None escape.

You have to be odd
to be number one

Endless striving, a cycle unrestrained,
Attempts that falter, efforts sustained.
Persisting through failure, undeterred,
In pursuit of dreams, the soul stirred.

What drives us forward, relentless in try?
Is it the goal's allure or lessons from sky?
Unaware, perhaps, of a truth concealed,
"Having lacks pleasure rather than wanting”

Destiny's playful twist,
Time's labyrinth unfolds,
Optimism in every thread.