The Girl

Still hope seems just a mile away,
Still dreams fly high and low,
She treads a path not known to every man,
Her struggle lies in her sorrow –

A while ago, when the sun was up,
A happy time it was –
But fleeting joy, ye quicker than the sand,
A strange enemy, a mere shadow of Loss –

Her eyes reflect the glory of her little girl,
Her charmed glory, her murdered child,
The one who never saw the light of the day,
Who would never know the man who took her life –

And thus she burnt in the burning fire,
A mother who never got the chance of being one,
And in such times we live, the times are wild,
Where no one sees the rising sun –

- Siddhartha.