Poem

Clusters of stars, a night sky;
From the yard, a bird makes a fly.
Howling wind, in the night;
Flapping wing, to reach the white.

Blind at night, the human eye;
Aflame and agog, to rise high.
Tries so hard, to leave the ground;
Sometime may lead, a bang sound.

Rain comes, as the roar of fright;
Fledgling bird, towards the light.
Refuse the ceasefire, to the Mother Nature;
A usual bird, rejects the failure.

Scared sounds, of the stormy night;
Though, denies to vanish in quite.
Prosper up, in a certain pace;
Learning from problem, how to face?

Impressed by the effort, the fowl makes;
Fall the star(white), the mother makes.
With the kit, he gathers;
Reach the height, thought of ever.

It’s the grace, of the fate;
Or the steps, that you take.
It’s your own future,
What you make.

For the first, if you fail;
Avoid depart, instead sail.
From the centre, try to reach;
Rowing the boat, up to the beach.

To fly high, as a bird in the sky;
With the attempt, belief in thy.
At this moment, let’s all pray;
A good start, at this divine day.