The First Song

                                                   

The primordial moment had come to pass, to form a divine paradox.

There was nothing called the night or day,

Nor the forces that have their way,

Neither the space for matter to rest; to move or stay at anyone's behest.

Engulfed in vast waters it laid, where there was no "deathlessness" or death

Of such an ocean, who can tell? how many fathoms was its depth?

To look over this no Gods were there, for there were no heavens from which to stare

What was that entity that held this all? how could it, upon itself, bear?

Answer to this, none can tell.

And it so happened, that a desire rose,

at an instance, in "its" mind.

An infinitesimal seed of creation,

germinating for everything to bind.

When this happened? How this happened?

Who can even fathom or tell?

Not us, not god nor he himself knows

As to where the answer dwells.

                                           

The days seem bleak and the heart seems weak

And there is so much hate and sorrow.

We wipe our tears, not with our hands,

But with the hope of a better tomorrow.

We are so sure, that the sun shall rise,

after a pitch dark,stormy night.

And that which makes us sit and wait,

Is not the fear, but the power of faith.

We close our eyes on the day that's passed.

To rest, with a sigh of relief.

Thought, death reeks our future,present and past.

That is the strength of belief

How can we be human? if, for at least once 

we've never loved?

Haven't shed a tear for another soul,

For one who is not of our flesh and blood?