There was a time,
When he wrote for fun,
About the moon, about the sun
There were those lines,
He just wrote for hobby.
And then he started to worry.
If they made any sense.
And then he thought.
To write his story,
The story of a life.
The story of fall.
The story of rise.
He wrote it all.
He no more wrote for hobby
He earned that glory
And,
He became the world poet
That is how,
He became the world poet.
He would start one,
But it would never end,
About to end,
The other would begin.
He would write each details.
About the pleasure and pains.
Which made the story.
The story of a life.
The story of fall.
The story of rise.
He wrote it all.
He no more wrote for hobby
He earned that glory
And,
He became the world poet
That is how,
He became the world poet.
Those who were lost ,were found.
WIth lights all around
Those who were found,were lost
Smiled and cried free of cost.
And then he wrote more.
About the rich,About the poor.
About human race,about the space
The story became a poem,
The poem ,a song.
And they sang, sang it all,
About their rise and fall.
The story of a life.
The poem of a life.
The song of a life.
He no more wrote for hobby
He earned that glory
And,
He became the world poet
That is how,
He became the world poet.
He shall never die,
Fly higher and high,
Live in their eyes,
In all lows and highs
After all,He wrote,
The story of a life.
The poem of a life.
The song of of a life.
Those who sang,
those who met,
Will never forget,
How,
He became the world poet.
Suresh Jyotipunja
Nepal
