Along the muddy road,
Goes the Rickshaw man,
Sweaty and tired,
He strives forward,
Life is not a gamble to him,
Reality was never a dream to him.
Part of a monotonous life,
He is not alone but he is on his own.
These moments are observed but soon forgotten.
Because everyone is running a race,
The race of life spiced up with dreams and hopes,
Cooked in the fire of reality,
And what it tastes like is important,
Only to the one to whom it really matters.
Race of Life
