Beneath the last tree of the horizon,
Amid the brightness and shadows of the sun,
The rover paused on that hot day,
Seeking a cool embrace in a land faraway...
The shelter offered a humble paradise,
To the unknown seeker of love,
And the weary traveller of miles,
In the muted fields that were once so wild...
When the rover tilted the vase,
Water didn't flow to ease the distress,
Trickling chants of droplets echoed,
In the silence of the barren stretch...
With no trace of water anywhere near,
He anticipated the end of his life,
Sitting quietly under the old banyan,
He wondered how to remain alive...
Hours passed and the dusk arrived,
Bringing along a dust-storm from far side...
The force stirred up the surroundings,
While shooking the tree in a brute turmoil...
The leaves scattered around the trunk,
Like stars shaping the constellations...
Dancing around in that chaotic day,
The storm plundered and went away...
But blessed was the rover of the land,
As he was still alive to witness the end...
Only that the end was still not the end,
When the nature waved its magic wand...
Springs of water emerged from the earth,
Wherever the falling leaves kissed the turf...
The sprinkles of life quenched his thirst,
As his trance faded away in the cold burst...
"You got your share of water,
that you saved in your life."
Thus spoke a voice of a mystic kind,
From somewhere up in the summer sky.
"Go out and save a lot more,
Spread the message across the shore,
So that your species can protect its life,
When the day of destruction arrives..."