The Sun, burns them
As though they have crossed its path.
Rather, it has with impunity.
Sweat rolls down their bodies to console,
But fury they warp it out
Just to survive.
That young lad is wet and frustrated.
Indeed some sweat , roll from his eyes not pores.
Where is that shoulder to comfort.
It is not glittering around me,
There are some few stars, though.
As I comprehend the fate of natures infant beings on the streets.
Life to live is survival,
My whole life till date,
I strive to attain success in studying formulas and texts of Gurrus.
But for ones,
They strive for the most basic needs of life.
Some depend totally on the Divine one,
Others, on the fate nature hands to them from the cradle.
I echo it loud for all to hear their plaits.
There are infant beings,