Give me silence and I'll give thee night,

Give me darkness and I'll give thee light,

Thus spake the Man of words few,

For he understood, he knew.

Give me thorns and I'll give thee roses,

Give me faces and I'll give thee poses,

For man is naught but an amalgam strange,

Of good and bad, all within range..

He who sins is, perhaps, sinner not,

A helpless he, that being his lot,

Fate conspires to let him know,

Who is Supreme and who runs the show.

Faith we need and it’s an oasis,

Unreachable with reason as the basis,

However tall we may stand,

The world we leave with an empty hand.

Like grains of sand that make the shore,

We return to sea when needed no more,

Each journey does its end contain,

It's 'manzil' and its own domain.

The wise man ended thus,

Some who listened rubbed their eyes,

Some said it was a pack of lies,

But the ' Noes' were less, or so he heard,

For what the old man said there were more 'Ayes'.

Note :All material in this product is the intellectual property of Ashok Sawhny and cannot be used in any way without the written

permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com