Reasons enough you will find to turn sad,
Which will make your life hellish and mad,
And dig out every petty cause to numb your senses,
Certainly stupor is the result and life being marked by tempest.
Life is thus a turmoil and struggle its way out,
So know life to be a road amidst thorns,
But let your legs get stout,
To reap life's harvest and to gains the corns.
It is you, who can afford to make life happy,
For, only you can cling to every miniscule reason and that is not uncanny,
Believing round the clock that tears are not of your share,
And dreaming a dream and not a nightmare.
Happiness and the feeling of success are not things which are awarded,
Only you have to realize it and feel rewarded,
Therein lies the spirit of life and the key to satisfaction,
Extirpating you time and again to inundate with placation.
So rise from the ashes, and be placid,
And let it be a reality and not fancied,
Because, you are yourself the maestro to "impart the jovial touch",
And then woes never matter much!
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