By Sumedha Rege
A tiny rill was once born
On the cliff of a mountain high
Which towered up with craggy peaks
And reached up to the sky
The rill began its descent downward
As it was meant to do
And as it trudged its rocky path
Lo, behold, it grew and grew
First a rill and then a brook
Soon it became a stream
Racing away from where it was born
All to chase a dream.
The mountain watched it grow apace
Its crags suffering many a mighty blow
As it stopped the clouds with its tall peaks
So, the stream with the rain could grow
At last, the stream reached the plain
Now a river, with a path to make
The mountain knew it would never be back
Its heart beginning to break
The river now had a single goal
To find the sea wide and blue
Far behind, the mountain watched
All its dreams come true
The river found its sea at last
And was lost in its embrace
‘Go my child “, smiled the mountain green
‘May you be blest with God`s grace
“No longer can I keep pace with you
You have grown long and wide
From afar though I rejoice in you
Your very being is my pride”
I asked the mountain, “Does it hurt
To let you little rill go?”
“Children have to find themselves, it smiled
Its tears beginning to flow
“Tis but the natural order of things
And it will always be so
WISDOM LIES IN HOLDING ON
BUT KNOWING WHEN TO LET GO.