Strive

Every tide, tiny or big, has to ebb.
Yet it rises; yes, it must.
Every ripple, any size, has to die,
Yet it stirs; yes, it must.
Every soul, king or pauper, would vanish.
Yet we strive; yes, we must.
18.08.2004

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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