A poem should be soundless as the flight of birds...A poem should be equal to not true....A poem should not mean but be.

Roads ahead of me

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I seem to look at the three roads ahead of me
Knowing not which to choose
I was confused and perplexed at the crossroad.
One was filled with flowers of hope
But I had to choose the thorns as well
Also knowing that flower droops when winter comes.
So taking a look at another road
Laden with dreams and riches for me
But I could see it taking me to a cave
And I had to accept darkness as well.
I shift my thought to the last road
One was full of stones and grass
Something that seemed natural and rough
Though I knew it was the toughest path
I could see the light of goodness as well
I took one step at once to tread the path
There I would see eternal peace awaiting me.


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Dinita Rai
J P Sharma Road