A race

Life is a void cloth if it has no value
Which means to buy the quality to live
For survival by struggling the earth;
In the midst of suffering and joy.
The Dream along the race like revolving top
The top passes to continue until there is a race
For tension with ropes attracting in lieu
For the sake of truth and hazards of life.
Life is a terrestrial zone like fling in the sky;
Like the astronauts floating in the air
As dazzling child does like revolving top
To move to and fro with rent and rave;
For being chorus of being worthless passerby.
In the deep seated watery motion of the earth
Like being adorned with festoons of flower wreath.

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