Farmer is lucky

I am sure,
the farmer gets everything pure;
the food, water and the air to endure.
He talks to the flowers and the birds;
he interacts with flocks and the herds.
He is lucky, everyday, he  meets the God
far from home, in his fields, in the crops.
He meets the God in the orchards,
in the bushes and those chirping birds,
He meets Him in blossoms and his horse,
in the nights, in moon and the stars.
He praises the God, is praised by God too,
as to perform His duties, takes all the woe.
He does his duties in the true spirit,
for which God keeps him healthy and fit.
For all of us, the farmer grows grains.
We eat happily, he does take all the pain.

The lamp is dead

The lamp is dead

Air can touch that lamp, 
can fall upon, the sun rays bright.
Rains can wet the lamp too,
but that is not it's life.

It can see the world or the sky, 
can fetch for it, a good price.
But, would remain a dead thing 
unless it burns or ignites.

Because a lamp is meant for, 
to burn in the night;
To bear whole of the heat 
and give others glowing light.

It is made of gold or clay
it's worth is it's spirit and stripe,
whatever decoration it bears, 
worthless, unless enables one's sight.