घुड़सवार

What matters most is perspective—

Not all is good, not all is bad.

Right and wrong are shifting shades,

Painted by the thoughts we've made.

We point out flaws in those we meet,

While others see our edges too.

Just mirrors shaped by me and you.

A shadow of the self we knew.

Each coin spins with dual sides:

You see the script, I see the crest.

But both are etched upon one face—

Just seen from a different place.

Your energy feels distant today,

And mine might drift too.

But neither soul has wandered wrong—

We’re just two notes in a deeper song.

A storm may strike with ache and strain,

And drag us through the dark and rain.

But have you looked with softened eyes,

At how the pain can make us wise?

None are born as angels pure and true,

Nor as demons forged in fire’s blue,

We rise from wombs of humble clay,

And seek the light in our own way.

Perception puts us to the test.

Bound by birth, and pain, and death.

Remember—truth wears many skins,

And peace begins where judgment ends.