My Son,

There is no journey without freedom

You may fly without a wing

You may walk when wings are there

You may cry with songs that sing

You may smile whilst you are in tears…

You may live in living of lone…

You may live to be free from home

You may decide on the rising sun

You may tell tales beneath the moon’ song

You may let go of your love ones…

Is freedom free my son?

Can you feel my tears? –

My tears that is not shed for you

But for the life I fail to live with you

When you are free from herds of here and there…


My son,

Life owes no one pain or gain

We, all owe life our pain, our gain

We make fate, before fate is too late…

Make fate my Son, before fate is too late

Make fate, when fate is your faith!

The more you live your life

The more your life writes you her poems

The more your life writes you 

The more your life is right 

About her poetry book that portrays you…

You make her to make right

In your present plight, as you live…

Living is a poem my Son,

We are all poets of our life…

Think, deep, to reap your reap.

To be continue…

c. Natur’s Pictur N’quill


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