Before I could see tomorrow
The tomorrow makes the most
Of that will bee seen
The reward has been in certainty as
The harvest knows why it came
The cause was internal of life
The kiss of wet muds and gentle winds
And in my inner trust the out I
Came to know, Why should
I call it fate then?
Fate is like moon, I have nothing to do with this empty glass,
The sun rising, the temple is
Being washed again,
The seed has the tree and all,
I have only to learn how to
Make me productive,
So that even when I die
My ashes would produce some
Flowers distinct.
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