She was sitting there, Maintaining her divine yoga posture, Like a deity with her numen, Yarns of coloured threads glittering beside, And more followed as she spun the Spinning wheel, The spinning wheel of life,
'Mother' I called her, 'Can I borrow one?' She looked at me still maintaining her poise, She urbanely replied "which one?" 'There the black one' I answered instantly.
"The black one!" Her voice mirrored her confoundment. 'Yes, I love the colour' I added. "Listen Child" she continued, " This my dear is not an easy Life to handle. It has omens of failure, Broken paths of success, Eclipse of heartbreak, Doom of curses, and only a zilch of favour."
'I will take that' I retorted. She smirked at my obstinacy, "Revamp it to white with care and Love, you got. Don't drop it midway, Complete the cycle and return it to me once you are done".
She handed the black yarn to me as she waned in the air, I jumped with innocent ecstasy, Only until I entered the "Life".