Ain't we like the cuckoo

that has lost its view,

as it yearns for the drops of dew

in the dark spell, the shadow of the clouds drew

for we stand amidst a maze

and endeavor to fixate our gaze

on those moments that sprinkle joyous sprays

while our attachments and aversions cast a haze...

Can we ever break out from this wheel of time, eternal?

Do we get to see through the illusory visual?

Damn! Haven't we mistaken joy as the beauty in a flower so ephemeral?

Oh! Ain't the fragrance of the almighty's charm , a bliss, internal!