Rough Rocks

How difficult, so difficult, it is to live in peace;

Life doesn’t like it; it wants you to come to blows.

How I crave for what was there once, so visibly there;

To move smoothly, not tripping on rough rocks that tease.

When we lived, when we loved, we had everything

That we ever needed to move ahead. Now we’re stagnant,

Unable to bring back the moments of calm, of ease.

Who says that things are in our control? What happens, happens

By another’s plans. He jumps into our lives with very sharp knives

And cuts off the strings that we’re bound by. Who is it that

Tramples on our harmony? What does he gain, except bequeathing us pain?