English Poem–Being human

Crossing the threshold of existence with a gigantic leap does not justify the award of being born as a human.

For, what would be the purport of all this that can be sensed?

Just as you start from the tail-end of a train, crossing each and every compartment and bogie, experiencing the ambience of different classes and finally reach the engine where the driver sits, a human birth commissions undergoing multiple but varied experiences before taking the last shot.

No wonder, when you enjoy life, it appears short, but when it starts enjoying you, you declare it is a lot.

Joyful or pain-ridden, every experience dies down as the body falls.

What remains is the veracity of the soul and falsity of this experience called ‘being human’.

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