A Temporary Gift..
It rained against the panes of my window, Little eager drops hitting on the glass, Smiling, laughing these drops of tears go, And in time their fleeting lives would pass. The momentary illusion that is existence, Filling up every sense of ours, purging, Blurring the lines between real and pretense, Brimming with ourselves the ego is surging. I held my hand outside, to hold a few, Drops whose existence I'd interfere with, And deep inside somewhere my ego knew, That all this life was just a temporary gift. DROPS of FIRST LIFE Photo courtesy: Neel Srivastava