I want to be

I don’t want to dwell in worldly load
but would make kind hearts my abode

I want to be the songs of the old
and would reflect in rare smiles of the chilly cold

I want to bloom as spring and autumn flowers
and would come to you as monsoon showers

I want to be the voice of birds that twirl
and would whisper to you as windy whirl

I want to be the colour of evening hue
and would rejuvenate as a morning dew

I want to be the dead-end of your sorrows
and would be the zeal of every morrow

I want to be the name, your pen effortlessly spells
and would be the final words of prayer, your lips propel

I want to be the tears of joy, rolling down the cheeks
and would become a refuge, your heart seeks

I don’t want to be the end-all and be-all of your life
but a string which can’t be cut either by a sword or a knife.

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