As Sun is assigned with the morrow,
the moon, with duty for the night;
as pain is shower’d after sorrow
and vanquishment after a plight;
as labours every-while the air
to fill thy lung and make it lift
when clouds hoodwink the white up there
then light-shaft someway finds a rift;
so dear friend mine, why thou wailest?
thou art at thy discipline best;
what subpar be if thou failest?
thy beinghood here is not a test.
This life is but a sweet-surview,
what now prevails, must sink today;
to let again its dawn renew
for waking is when there’s a day!
Shamik Banerjee is a poet and poetry reviewer from the North-Eastern belt of India. He loves taking long strolls and spending time with his family. His deep affection with solitude and poetry provides him happiness.
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