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Moksha Jain Poem
Marks can get you a degree or fame, But life doesn't play the same game. You memorize laws, quote the rules Still stumble when life bends the tools You can top every subject and win every race, Yet still lose direction in life’s lonely maze. You chase good grades because that’s what they praise, Yet no one teaches how to survive the hard days. You polished essays, following every rule But life has no syllabus and that’s it’s cruelest rule When the bills knock hard or the gas stove sparks, No one ask’s u about your calculus flair They'll ask you to mend what life tears apart, Not just recite what you've learnt by heart. They'll need you to fix a flat tire's plight, or cook a roti when the stove's not right. So, focus on skills that truly matter, Not just chapters that make your grades flatter. The answers that matter don't come from a page, They find you somewhere between fear and age Perhaps, Books may give you a career or name, But only wisdom teaches you how to play life's game. - MOKSHA JAIN
Copyright © Moksha Jain | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Moksha Jain Poem
Marks can get you a degree or fame, But life doesn't play the same game. You memorize laws, quote the rules Still stumble when life bends the tools You can top every subject and win every race, Yet still lose direction in life’s lonely maze. You chase good grades because that’s what they praise, Yet no one teaches how to survive the hard days. You polished essays, following every rule But life has no syllabus and that’s it’s cruelest rule When the bills knock hard or the gas stove sparks, No one ask’s u about your calculus flair They'll ask you to mend what life tears apart, Not just recite what you've learnt by heart. They'll need you to fix a flat tire's plight, or cook a roti when the stove's not right. So, focus on skills that truly matter, Not just chapters that make your grades flatter. The answers that matter don't come from a page, They find you somewhere between fear and age Perhaps, Books may give you a career or name, But only wisdom teaches you how to play life's game. - MOKSHA JAIN
Copyright © Moksha Jain | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Moksha Jain Poem
Everyone plays a different game With the same twenty-four hours, But the stakes remain ours to set. Eight billion marbles jostle in the jar we call world, Yet we only ever play with the five in our pockets. There are a thousand ways to breathe and only one way to stop Countless ways to spend the space between the cradle and the clock. Evenings dissolve into glowing screens nd silent scrolling Where our fingers travel farther than our feet ever do Our thumb scrolls a mile of glass while our legs forget how to walk In one corner of the world , A mind is trying to outgrow humanity The Silicon Valley dreamer dreams of merging with the machine While the nomad in the High Andes learns the language of water A blind man gathers faces with his fingertips, An artist gathers souls with light. Neither has borrowed the other's eyes, Yet both swear they've witnessed life. A Pilot spends dawn above the clouds And a Minor spends dawn beneath the earth The eagle maps the valley by the rhythm of his wings The tiger maps the cage by the pacing of his grief. The tragedy was never that the world was vast The tragedy was thinking ours was whole. We spent a lifetime tracing one small shore, While calling it the ocean's soul. We call our corner the world, because it's all we've ever known. Yet eight billion skies are rising where our eyes have never flown. Perhaps the greatest lie we learn is thinking our view is the whole When every beating heart is busy living a diffrent world. - MOKSHA JAIN
Copyright © Moksha Jain | Year Posted 2026
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