A puppet of clay

Yesterday i got small poem through SMS. I find it simple and interesting so decided to blog it.

A puppet of clay

Often, as i look through my old window

Wounder, from where does this wind blow

There must be some one who made trees

And then made them to move to and fro

Often, as i look into the burning sun

I start to think of Him, the greatest one

He is the creator and protector of all

I am the creator and protector of none

He gave me eyes to see His grace

He gave me a tongue just to praise

Today as i think of my bad deeds

All selfish talks and my greeds

My eyes get filled with tears and shame

With pain and sorrow, my heart bleeds

For how long in this world, will i stay?

Surely, i will have to leave one day

With the passage of time, i have realized

I am nothing but a puppet of clay.