My life my future

My life, My Future

Life seems to be a glittering wave under the Eocene  beds,
Like the sleepy pun in the wake of a starry night,
Whoever knows the mystery hidden inside the battered zeal,
Life is made up of an empty vessel if knowledge passes away,
For switching over the difficulties in the beams of hectic ray of the sun.
Above the ground, so low to ponder over ideas and research, like thought,
As if the tone of human zeal is always brainstorming,
To congregate the  ideas of the dilapidated cottage,
In ma mournful attitude towards the billiard, whichever lies in the dried leaves,
For the sake of hale and hearty underneath the riverbeds,
Intoning the gentle bridge for hopeful vigilance hereinafter.

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