The sun shines like a king in the sky,
His chariot is made of gold.
He rides along to give way to the moon,
Who rides with a silver crown!
The trees are lolling from side to side,
To the lullaby sung by the wind.
The gentle breeze is flowing serenely,
The flowers breath in and out in sleep.
The ripples on the water are restless with waiting,
They are waiting for a fish to pop out.
They are disturbed by a petal falling into the water,
The petal is happy with the gentle smooch.
The mountains across frown and smile,
Casting a shadow of doubt.
Nobody can test their authenticity of emotion,
As they are born and made of stone.
The mighty creator, the mighty smite-r!
Make up your mind to believe.
The creation of the creator is at stake,
Once wounded it is hard to relieve.
--Mohan
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