Every sprout is a promise to the seed
Every invention is a tribute to the need
Every intention welcomes a new deed
Every incarnation is the birth of a creed
When everything new bids farewell to old
Each new day hands me memories to hold
Every literature gives me thoughts to mold
Every tragedy leaves me bewildered and cold
Now that I know each chilly night has a sun
I won’t stay at the fence, as a confused one
I do not mind fighting a battle without a gun
But I won’t be a scarecrow of flesh and bone
Instead, I would run inside a rusted barbed wire
Like a quick dazzling spark, ready to ignite a fire
The BIOSCOPED Life 