poemhunter

Chisel the hearts with soft stroke,
As it is not hard as the stones and the rocks,
All the hearts are carved with sharp knives,
Of experience to face the future prepared,
The molded hearts are there, easily bruised,
With the yielding of the words of swords,
The molten planning poured into millions of molds,
All think the same; all are hurt with blames,
Flames of fury erupts to torch and tame,
Heart sculptured of stones, beaten for many times,
Stand erect under the fair and fiery weathers,
Not interested to wrestle with glass hearts,
For the fear of breaking it into thousands,
Of weeping pieces, it always moves away with a swift movement,
Either way, the hearts of glass are always at the risk.

veeraiyah subbulakshmi

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/averting/

veeraiyah subbulakshmiAverting...