Through the hills and lands of green,
Was a small town called “Doco Treen”
And there lived a small boy,
Not so small, just eighteen.
Though teen, happy-go-lucky he was,
One day something left him aghast,
His mother was his only family,
And, now away she had passed.
Crying, weeping somehow the kid,
Got himself out of the pit,
A few years got by and then,
Grew up, yes, finally he did.
He married a very beautiful lass,
But, happiness still could not last,
Just married, and just divorced,
Happiness had just come and passed.
The kid was thirty two now,
A rich, proud boy and how,
He’d earned billions, millions today,
All that the world allowed.
But, this too did not last,
Threw him away, his own past,
A forgery two years ago,
His wealth too was soon to pass.
Forty, and what could he do?
Politics, yes that was his suit,
He joined the party that he knew,
And bit by bit, strengthened his root.
One day, using all his craft,
He became the PM of the caste,
But, destiny hospitalized his kid,
His life, indeed, was soon to pass.
On his funeral, he cried a lot,
His only son, his only hope,
Only reminder of his mother, his wife,
Dead was what he loved the most.
He called the finest men of the past,
“Make me happy” The PM asked,
But, none could despite numerous tries,
Except one who said “This too shall pass”.
The poem is based on the famous age-old Persian quote “This too shall pass”.