The Solitary Stance

In a world where people end up giving up, there are numerous things that would inspire us never to give up. This poem talks about one such thing.

The city outside sounded like it's on fire

With clouds roaring and rain coming down

Disrupting what exactly they aspire 

to do and twisting their face into a frown

As my gaze shifts away from a boring class 

It's quite peaceful, for sometime

But there's a storm brewing outside the glass

Buckle up, life turns on a dime

The cats and dogs never seem to stop

They hit the pane, as hard as they can

Presuming it to be a poor farmers' crop

But the pane stands, like a man

My eyeballs find a Peepal tree

It stands there, in a solitary stance

Otherwise in a cherish-able, effective glee

But the wind rocks it, that's a scary glance

Attempts after attempts come and go,

The Peepal almost swings like a vine

It's branches swishing high and low

The winds crash into it, but almost benign

The water, which keeps it alive and kicking

Compliments the wind in tearing it to shreds

A knife sharpener, it's proudly mimicking

Working with the killer, who later the others dread

Standing and hanging on is embedded in it's soul

Conspiracies and attacks are just a nominal threat

Attempts to dislodge it from the hole

That would be left sorely behind

Staying there and never give up is what it does

No matter how big or small it actually is

It's resolute nature keeps it kicking

Threats come and go, the solitary stance stays