It Will Pass

A boatman trapped in the middle of a raging storm,

looked pleadingly towards the persistently rising tides,

vigilant to the fact, that from land he had drifted too far to expect assistance in any form.

Waves after waves were touching the mammoth skies,

As if making space to gulp and swallow the boat alongwith its boatman.

Up there in the firmament gloomy clouds also appeared to be scheming that day,

peering into every corner of the incensed ocean,

to make sure to turn everything upside down, 

to spare no pains in order to move heaven and earth,

to extinguish the lamp of hope that would always stay lighted in the boatman's little heart.

The lamp of light that had previously preached the poor boatman to spare no effort,

to pull out all the stops and to be ready to move the mountains if need be,

was as if eclipsed.

Dense clouds were ready to burst on the frail watercraft,

to dig the water grave of the God- fearing seafarer.

The able-bodied seaman, beseechingly fixed his gaze towards the furious skies,

for an instant he was blinded by the lightning that reminded him of the Supreme Light,

The Supreme Celestial being only who can calm the seething waters.

Who decides beginnings and ends,

who owns both heaven and inferno,

water and fire,

living and non-living,

who decides life and death,

without whose will it's said not even a leaf can stir,

The  only one whom the boatman remembered previously gave him strength to stand and strive,

His prayers were failing, 

His trust was waning amid that merciless tempest.

Fighting hard with his destiny since hours,

The weakest moment of his life was mockingly, glaring at him,

 when one of his oars submerged into the deep waters,

with one tired, blistered and shaking hand that had lost the oar he wiped his tears,

Tears mingled with incessant raindrops washing his face seemed to have conspired with the starving sea aimed to obstruct his vision,

Feverishly he fell on his decrepit boat's floor,

When suddenly light in his blurry eyes glimmered the moment he saw a majestic sight,

The oar he had lost to the hungry waters was floating beside his boat,

assuring him that till last breath there is hope,

Those who give up without fighting the odds die before the actual death,

And those who are ready to face and fight all ups and downs are called warriors,

He got up to row his boat one more time because his floating oar was a God sent messenger for him reminding him that that tough hour would also sooner or later pass.