He picked up the sand,
And saw it flow out of his hands,
And looked at his mother and asked,
'Cant I take with me, a little piece of these sands?'
She smiled and she patted his head,
And then pulled his little cheeks,
Cause what she had to say needed decades,
And her little son wanted it all in a matter of weeks.
She told him ' my son, the sand is your life,
Hold it in your hand and watch it flow.
Touch it and feel its smoothness and roughness too,
Watch it in the twilight and see its mesmerizing glow.
Hold it too tight and see it spill out of your hands,
Too loose and watch it slip away slow
But hold it just right in the palm of your hands,
And quietly it will sit and never overflow.
And with work and fortune in life lightning might just strike,
Brown sand will turn into a glass sculpture beautiful.
And your life will be a delight for all to admire,
People will envy you, and your life wonderful.
Even then don't hold too tight,
Because the glass could shatter and injure you too.
Don't make the mistake of holding on too loose,
Cause what will be left will be pieces of sparkling blue.
Life's precious enjoy it, cherish it forever,
And never become so careless that you forget the truth.
That life's a treasure, and a special one at that,
Because gods greatest gift to you is you.'
The child picked up some sand from the earth,
And watched it in his little palm settle,
It was suddenly beautiful to him,
Beautiful as the sun, as a rose's petals.
His mother then picked him up in the fading light,
As he was put on his bed, he smiled at her and held her tight,
She placed his sand carefully in a cup near his bed.
Then she moved the curls of his face and kissed him good night.
And she prayed in her heart as only a mother could
He was growing up too fast crawling yesterday, running now.
She prayed her little child would into a good man grow.
His success being her greatest triumph, such is a mothers love.
- Pranay Rao
