He limped and limped with his crippled feet along the stony rustic tracks.
Intense desire to rise up fired his frazzled
frame and he bore the pains of walk and pangs of hunger. He kept his gaze steady to the skies and kept the tempo of an arduous climb, never turning back for a second in doubt in the
intense darkness surrounding him. He saw the
distant light and ducked the striking storm and hid from the lightning strikes and thunder galore. He inspired his desperate kin pointing to the distant source of light and promising everything they ever dreamt. I guessed not, not even in my distant dreams that fate would strike him down. No global might can rivalHim in executing dreadful deeds. Do not hope to get from above a trivial aid to soothe your pain. When the news of accident was brought and the leave of the orphanage warden sought, I knew not that so merciless a blow had been wrought. As I approached the village clothed in a pallid, gloom spelt mood, the church bells tolled his death. Amidst a sobbing crowd he lay in a coffin shroud, his eyes had waxed deadly chill, the gleam of his life-lit brow had fled. There was a tear-drop wetting his eyelids signaling his helplessness to withhold fate. His cheeks still had a tint of the reflected red as if the pal resolved to stretch his life and defy the hands of death. Tears like drops of blood had gathered in a tranquil pool as the coffin was lowered it drizzled. Even nature seemed to share our grief.