It was a beautiful place in a distant land
Below, the cool breeze was calm as God’s own hand
Above was the silent black-perfect with spotted silver
As she sang, her words cohered with the music of the river

Singing to herself, she remised her past days
Recalling the memories of evanescent joys and lasting pains
What in a prodigious world was her identity?
The answer to it she sought with complete veracity

‘Identity’ they say is something that’s your own
Just as the North Star, among others it outshone
It is defined by what you are and what you do
It describes your ‘self’ – lucid and true

‘Identity’ she admired as God’s precious gift,
Part is innate and the rest is built
In the odyssey of life full of different shades
She travels with a zeal that never fades…