The beach sand made it really difficult to run,
The kite flew out of my hand towards the sun,
I ran after the kite, as it moved, swirled and spurn,
The hot desert winds took the kite, never to return,
I ran faster and faster, only to have my feet burn,
I let the kite fly higher and I was meant to learn,
No matter how fast I tried, giving my effort, to run,
I must try again for that string, I dream and yearn
I look at the kite’s string, which I deserve to earn
And to have it, I pressed my foot and my run began.
~Sudarshan Varadhan
THE WORDSMITH. 