By Sammaira Sameer Mittal
We name hurricanes, but they will never know their own name
The tallest mountain stands colossal, but never knew that it was a feat to tame
The clock measures time, but never feels it pass
The mirror reflects every face, but never sees its own glass
The echo repeats every word, but never has the first say
The shadow follows faithfully, but never leads the way.
Untouched by our own function, blissfully unaware
Puppets on strings in a “grand affair”
Diligently playing our part with finesse
In someone else’s story- ah, but we digress.
A white lie was told once, ‘carpe diem’,
Yet, fear hums a silent requiem
For picking up the pen takes little might,
But writing your own story- that is the real fight.