A Toast

Come my friends, let’s raise a toast,
To all the things we once feared the most,
Raise one toast for the boss, who wouldn’t understand,
And one toast for the girl, who could’ve made your world grand,
Another one for the father, who raised a hand to hit you,
And one more for the brother, who you knew would ditch you,
One for the friend, who backstabbed and betrayed,
One for the enemy, whose aim never strayed,
Let’s have another one, for the child in us,
The one who made us propose to our first crush,
Save one more for our own parental mode,
With which we judged other people’s moral code,

Gulp it down, and make sure you savor the taste,
Drink every drop of it; don’t let it go waste,
And now think of all the things we could’ve learnt,
While we feared and cried, and our dreams burnt,
The incompetent boss, would stay there while you grew,
And the girl could still be your wife; maybe she too loved you,
Don’t forget that your father too, was once a son,
Or your brother brought you home, when you had run,
The friend who betrayed, was a choice gone wrong,
The enemies picked on you because you weren’t strong,
And now raise another toast, in humble gratitude,
And thank them all, for our unflinching attitude.

The Last Question

Hi,

What follows is a short story by Isaac Asimov. While many people might have read his Foundation series, or seen the I-robot movie, this short story gives us an insight into the genius, the imagination,and the sheer brilliance of one of the most prolific minds of our time.

The Last Question


The last question was asked for the first time, half in jest, on May 21, 2061, at a time when humanity first stepped into the light. The question came about as a result of a five-dollar bet over highballs, and it happened this way:

Alexander Adell and Bertram Lupov were two of the faithful attendants of
Multivac. As well as any human beings could, they knew what lay behind
the cold, clicking, flashing face -- miles and miles of face -- of that
giant computer. They had at least a vague notion of the general plan of
relays and circuits that had long since grown past the point where any
single human could possibly have a firm grasp of the whole.

Multivac was self-adjusting and self-correcting. It had to be, for
nothing human could adjust and correct it quickly enough or even
adequately enough. So Adell and Lupov attended the monstrous giant only
lightly and superficially, yet as well as any men could. They fed it
data, adjusted questions to its needs and translated the answers that
were issued. Certainly they, and all others like them, were fully
entitled to share in the glory that was Multivac's.

For decades, Multivac had helped design the ships and plot the
trajectories that enabled man to reach the Moon, Mars, and Venus, but
past that, Earth's poor resources could not support the ships. Too much
energy was needed for the long trips. Earth exploited its coal and
uranium with increasing efficiency, but there was only so much of both.

But slowly Multivac learned enough to answer deeper questions more
fundamentally, and on May 14, 2061, what had been theory, became fact.

The energy of the sun was stored, converted, and utilized directly on a
planet-wide scale. All Earth turned off its burning coal, its fissioning
uranium, and flipped the switch that connected all of it to a small
station, one mile in diameter, circling the Earth at half the distance
of the Moon. All Earth ran by invisible beams of sunpower.

Seven days had not sufficed to dim the glory of it and Adell and Lupov
finally managed to escape from the public functions, and to meet in
quiet where no one would think of looking for them, in the deserted
underground chambers, where portions of the mighty buried body of
Multivac showed. Unattended, idling, sorting data with contented lazy
clickings, Multivac, too, had earned its vacation and the boys
appreciated that. They had no intention, originally, of disturbing it.

They had brought a bottle with them, and their only concern at the
moment was to relax in the company of each other and the bottle.

"It's amazing when you think of it," said Adell. His broad face had
lines of weariness in it, and he stirred his drink slowly with a glass
rod, watching the cubes of ice slur clumsily about. "All the energy we
can possibly ever use for free. Enough energy, if we wanted to draw on
it, to melt all Earth into a big drop of impure liquid iron, and still
never miss the energy so used. All the energy we could ever use, forever
and forever and forever."

Lupov cocked his head sideways. He had a trick of doing that when he
wanted to be contrary, and he wanted to be contrary now, partly because
he had had to carry the ice and glassware. "Not forever," he said.

"Oh, hell, just about forever. Till the sun runs down, Bert."

"That's not forever."

"All right, then. Billions and billions of years. Ten billion, maybe.
Are you satisfied?"

Lupov put his fingers through his thinning hair as though to reassure
himself that some was still left and sipped gently at his own drink.
"Ten billion years isn't forever."

"Well, it will last our time, won't it?"

"So would the coal and uranium."

"All right, but now we can hook up each individual spaceship to the
Solar Station, and it can go to Pluto and back a million times without
ever worrying about fuel. You can't do that on coal and uranium. Ask
Multivac, if you don't believe me.

"I don't have to ask Multivac. I know that."

"Then stop running down what Multivac's done for us," said Adell,
blazing up, "It did all right."

"Who says it didn't? What I say is that a sun won't last forever. That's
all I'm saying. We're safe for ten billion years, but then what?" Lupow
pointed a slightly shaky finger at the other. "And don't say we'll
switch to another sun."

There was silence for a while. Adell put his glass to his lips only
occasionally, and Lupov's eyes slowly closed. They rested.

Then Lupov's eyes snapped open. "You're thinking we'll switch to another
sun when ours is done, aren't you?"

"I'm not thinking."

"Sure you are. You're weak on logic, that's the trouble with you. You're
like the guy in the story who was caught in a sudden shower and who ran
to a grove of trees and got under one. He wasn't worried, you see,
because he figured when one tree got wet through, he would just get
under another one."

"I get it," said Adell. "Don't shout. When the sun is done, the other
stars will be gone, too."

"Darn right they will," muttered Lupov. "It all had a beginning in the
original cosmic explosion, whatever that was, and it'll all have an end
when all the stars run down. Some run down faster than others. Hell, the
giants won't last a hundred million years. The sun will last ten billion
years and maybe the dwarfs will last two hundred billion for all the
good they are. But just give us a trillion years and everything will be
dark. Entropy has to increase to maximum, that's all."

"I know all about entropy," said Adell, standing on his dignity.

"The hell you do."

"I know as much as you do."

"Then you know everything's got to run down someday."

"All right. Who says they won't?"

"You did, you poor sap. You said we had all the energy we needed,
forever. You said 'forever.'

It was Adell's turn to be contrary. "Maybe we can build things up again
someday," he said.

"Never."

"Why not? Someday."

"Never."

"Ask Multivac."

"You ask Multivac. I dare you. Five dollars says it can't be done."

Adell was just drunk enough to try, just sober enough to be able to
phrase the necessary symbols and operations into a question which, in
words, might have corresponded to this: Will mankind one day without the
net expenditure of energy be able to restore the sun to its full
youthfulness even after it had died of old age?

Or maybe it could be put more simply like this: How can the net amount
of entropy of the universe be massively decreased?

Multivac fell dead and silent. The slow flashing of lights ceased, the
distant sounds of clicking relays ended.

Then, just as the frightened technicians felt they could hold their
breath no longer, there was a sudden springing to life of the teletype
attached to that portion of Multivac. Five words were printed:
INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR MEANINGFUL ANSWER.

"No bet," whispered Lupov. They left hurriedly.

By next morning, the two, plagued with throbbing head and cottony mouth,
had forgotten the incident.

Jerrodd, Jerrodine, and Jerrodette I and II watched the starry picture
in the visiplate change as the passage through hyperspace was completed
in its non-time lapse. At once, the even powdering of stars gave way to
the predominance of a single bright shining disk, the size of a marble,
centered on the viewing-screen.

"That's X-23," said Jerrodd confidently. His thin hands clamped tightly
behind his back and the knuckles whitened.

The little Jerrodettes, both girls, had experienced the hyperspace
passage for the first time in their lives and were self-conscious over
the momentary sensation of insideoutness. They buried their giggles and
chased one another wildly about their mother, screaming, "We've reached
X-23 -- we've reached X-23 -- we've --"

"Quiet, children." said Jerrodine sharply. "Are you sure, Jerrodd?"

"What is there to be but sure?" asked Jerrodd, glancing up at the bulge
of featureless metal just under the ceiling. It ran the length of the
room, disappearing through the wall at either end. It was as long as the
ship.

Jerrodd scarcely knew a thing about the thick rod of metal except that
it was called a Microvac, that one asked it questions if one wished;
that if one did not it still had its task of guiding the ship to a
preordered destination; of feeding on energies from the various
Sub-galactic Power Stations; of computing the equations for the
hyperspatial jumps.

Jerrodd and his family had only to wait and live in the comfortable
residence quarters of the ship. Someone had once told Jerrodd that the
"ac" at the end of "Microvac" stood for ''automatic computer" in ancient
English, but he was on the edge of forgetting even that.

Jerrodine's eyes were moist as she watched the visiplate. "I can't help
it. I feel funny about leaving Earth."

"Why, for Pete's sake?" demanded Jerrodd. "We had nothing there. We'll
have everything on X-23. You won't be alone. You won't be a pioneer.
There are over a million people on the planet already. Good Lord, our
great-grandchildren will be looking for new worlds because X-23 will be
overcrowded." Then, after a reflective pause, "I tell you, it's a lucky
thing the computers worked out interstellar travel the way the race is
growing."

"I know, I know," said Jerrodine miserably.

Jerrodette I said promptly, "Our Microvac is the best Microvac in the
world."

"I think so, too," said Jerrodd, tousling her hair.

It was a nice feeling to have a Microvac of your own and Jerrodd was
glad he was part of his generation and no other. In his father's youth,
the only computers had been tremendous machines taking up a hundred
square miles of land. There was only one to a planet. Planetary ACs they
were called. They had been growing in size steadily for a thousand years
and then, all at once, came refinement. In place of transistors, had
come molecular valves so that even the largest Planetary AC could be put
into a space only half the volume of a spaceship.

Jerrodd felt uplifted, as he always did when he thought that his own
personal Microvac was many times more complicated than the ancient and
primitive Multivac that had first tamed the Sun, and almost as
complicated as Earth's Planetarv AC (the largest) that had first solved
the problem of hyperspatial travel and had made trips to the stars
possible.

"So many stars, so many planets," sighed Jerrodine, busy with her own
thoughts. "I suppose families will be going out to new planets forever,
the way we are now."

"Not forever," said Jerrodd, with a smile. "It will all stop someday,
but not for billions of years. Many billions. Even the stars run down,
you know. Entropy must increase.

"What's entropy, daddy?" shrilled Jerrodette II.

"Entropy, little sweet, is just a word which means the amount of
running-down of the universe. Everything runs down, you know, like your
little walkie-talkie robot, remember?"

"Can't you just put in a new power-unit, like with my robot?"

"The stars are the power-units. dear. Once they're gone, there are no
more power-units."

Jerrodette I at once set up a howl. "Don't let them, daddy. Don't let
the stars run down."

"Now look what you've done," whispered Jerrodine, exasperated.

"How was I to know it would frighten them?" Jerrodd whispered back,

"Ask the Microvac," wailed Jerrodette I. "Ask him how to turn the stars
on again."

"Go ahead," said Jerrodine. "It will quiet them down." (Jerrodette II
was beginning to cry, also.)

Jerrodd shrugged. "Now, now, honeys. I'll ask Microvac. Don't worry,
he'll tell us."

He asked the Microvac, adding quickly, "Print the answer."

Jerrodd cupped the strip or thin cellufilm and said cheerfully, "See
now, the Microvac says it will take care of everything when the time
comes so don't worry."

Jerrodine said, "And now, children, it's time for bed. We'll be in our
new home soon."

Jerrodd read the words on the cellufilm again before destroying it:
INSUFICIENT DATA FOR MEANINGFUL ANSWER.

He shrugged and looked at the visiplate. X-23 was just ahead.

VJ-23X of Lameth stared into the black depths of the three-dimensional,
small-scale map of the Galaxy and said, "Are we ridiculous, I wonder in
being so concerned about the matter?"

MQ-17J of Nicron shook his head. "I think not. You know the Galaxy will
be filled in five years at the present rate of expansion."

Both seemed in their early twenties, both were tall and perfectly
formed.

"Still," said VJ-23X, "I hesitate to submit a pessimistic report to the
Galactic Council."

"I wouldn't consider any other kind of report. Stir them up a bit. We've
got to stir them up."

VJ-23X sighed. "Space is infinite. A hundred billion Galaxies are there
for the taking. More."

"A hundred billion is not infinite and it's getting less infinite all
the time. Consider! Twenty thousand years ago, mankind first solved the
problem of utilizing stellar energy, and a few centuries later,
interstellar travel became possible. It took mankind a million years to
fill one small world and then only fifteen thousand years to fill the
rest of the Galaxy. Now the population doubles every ten years --

VJ-23X interrupted. "We can thank immortality for that."

"Very well. Immortality exists and we have to take it into account. I
admit it has its seamy side, this immortality. The Galactic AC has
solved many problems for us, but in solving the problem of preventing
old age and death, it has undone all its other solutions."

"Yet you wouldn't want to abandon life, I suppose."

"Not at all," snapped MQ-17J, softening it at once to, "Not yet. I'm by
no means old enough. How old are you?"

"Two hundred twenty-three. And you?"

"I'm still under two hundred. --But to get back to my point. Population
doubles every ten years. Once this GaIaxy is filled, we'll have filled
another in ten years. Another ten years and we'll have filled two more.
Another decade, four more. In a hundred years, we'll have filled a
thousand Galaxies. In a thousand years, a million Galaxies. In ten
thousand years, the entire known universe. Then what?"

VJ-23X said, "As a side issue, there's a problem of transportation. I
wonder how many sunpower units it will take to move Galaxies of
individuals from one Galaxy to the next."

"A very good point. Already, mankind consumes two sunpower units per
year."

"Most of it's wasted. After all, our own Galaxy alone pours out a
thousand sunpower units a year and we only use two of those."

"Granted, but even with a hundred per cent efficiency, we only stave off
the end. Our energy requirements are going up in a geometric progression
even faster than our population. We'll run out of energy even sooner
than we run out of Galaxies. A good point. A very good point."

"We'll just have to build new stars out of interstellar gas."

"Or out of dissipated heat?" asked MQ-17J, sarcastically.

"There may be some way to reverse entropy. We ought to ask the Galactic
AC."

VJ-23X was not really serious, but MQ-17J pulled out his AC-contact from
his pocket and placed it on the table before him.

"I've half a mind to," he said. "It's something the human race will have
to face someday."

He stared somberly at his small AC-contact. It was only two inches cubed
and nothing in itself, but it was connected through hyperspace with the
great Galactic AC that served all mankind. Hyperspace considered, it was
an integral part of the Galactic AC.

MQ-17J paused to wonder if someday in his immortal life he would get to
see the Galactic AC. It was on a little world of its own, a spider
webbing of force-beams holding the matter within which surges of
submesons took the place of the old clumsy molecular valves. Yet despite
its sub-etheric workings, the Galactic AC was known to be a full
thousand feet across.

MQ-17J asked suddenly of his AC-contact, "Can entropy ever be reversed?"

VJ-23X looked startled and said at once, "Oh, say, I didn't really mean
to have you ask that."

"Why not?"

"We both know entropy can't be reversed. You can't turn smoke and ash
back into a tree."

"Do you have trees on your world?" asked MQ-17J.

The sound of the Galactic AC startled them into silence. Its voice came
thin and beautiful out of the small AC-contact on the desk. It said:
THERE IS INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER.

VJ-23X said, "See!"

The two men thereupon returned to the question of the report they were
to make to the Galactic Council.

Zee Prime's mind spanned the new Galaxy with a faint interest in the
countless twists of stars that powdered it. He had never seen this one
before. Would he ever see them all? So many of them, each with its load
of humanity. --But a load that was almost a dead weight. More and more,
the real essence of men was to be found out here, in space.

Minds, not bodies! The immortal bodies remained back on the planets, in
suspension over the eons. Sometimes they roused for material activity
but that was growing rarer. Few new individuals were coming into
existence to join the incredibly mighty throng, but what matter? There
was little room in the Universe for new individuals.

Zee Prime was roused out of his reverie upon coming across the wispy
tendrils of another mind.

"I am Zee Prime," said Zee Prime. "And you?"

"I am Dee Sub Wun. Your Galaxy?"

"We call it only the Galaxy. And you?"

"We call ours the same. All men call their Galaxy their Galaxy and
nothing more. Why not?"

"True. Since all Galaxies are the same."

"Not all Galaxies. On one particular Galaxy the race of man must have
originated. That makes it different."

Zee Prime said, "On which one?"

"I cannot say. The Universal AC would know."

"Shall we ask him? I am suddenly curious."

Zee Prime's perceptions broadened until the Galaxies themselves shrank
and became a new, more diffuse powdering on a much larger background. So
many hundreds of billions of them, all with their immortal beings, all
carrying their load of intelligences with minds that drifted freely
through space. And yet one of them was unique among them all in being
the original Galaxy. One of them had, in its vague and distant past, a
period when it was the only Galaxy populated by man.

Zee Prime was consumed with curiosity to see this Galaxy and he called
out: "Universal AC! On which Galaxy did mankind originate?"

The Universal AC heard, for on every world and throughout space, it had
its receptors ready, and each receptor led through hyperspace to some
unknown point where the Universal AC kept itself aloof.

Zee Prime knew of only one man whose thoughts had penetrated within
sensing distance of Universal AC, and he reported only a shining globe,
two feet across, difficult to see.

"But how can that be all of Universal AC?" Zee Prime had asked.

"Most of it," had been the answer, "is in hyperspace. In what form it is
there I cannot imagine."

Nor could anyone, for the day had long since passed, Zee Prime knew,
when any man had any part of the making of a Universal AC. Each
Universal AC designed and constructed its successor. Each, during its
existence of a million years or more accumulated the necessary data to
build a better and more intricate, more capable successor in which its
own store of data and individuality would be submerged.

The Universal AC interrupted Zee Prime's wandering thoughts, not with
words, but with guidance. Zee Prime's mentality was guided into the dim
sea of Galaxies and one in particular enlarged into stars.

A thought came, infinitely distant, but infinitely clear. "THIS IS THE
ORIGINAL GALAXY OF MAN."

But it was the same after all, the same as any other, and Lee Prime
stifled his disappointment.

Dee Sub Wun, whose mind had accompanied the other, said suddenly, "And
is one of these stars the original star of Man?"

The Universal AC said, "MAN'S ORIGINAL STAR HAS GONE NOVA. IT IS A WHITE
DWARF"

"Did the men upon it die?" asked Lee Prime, startled and without
thinking.

The Universal AC said, "A NEW WORLD, AS IN SUCH CASES WAS CONSTRUCTED
FOR THEIR PHYSICAL BODIES IN TlME."

"Yes, of course," said Zee Prime, but a sense of loss overwhelmed him
even so. His mind released its hold on the original Galaxy of Man, let
it spring back and lose itself among the blurred pin points. He never
wanted to see it again.

Dee Sub Wun said, "What is wrong?"

"The stars are dying. The original star is dead."

"They must all die. Why not?"

"But when all energy is gone, our bodies will finally die, and you and I
with them."

"It will take billions of years."

"I do not wish it to happen even after billions of years. Universal AC!
How may stars be kept from dying?"

Dee Sub Wun said in amusement, "You're asking how entropy might be
reversed in direction."

And the Universal AC answered: "THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A
MEANINGFUL ANSWER."

Zee Prime's thoughts fled back to his own Galaxy. He gave no further
thought to Dee Sub Wun, whose body might be waiting on a Galaxy a
trillion light-years away, or on the star next to Zee Prime's own. It
didn't matter.

Unhappily, Zee Prime began collecting interstellar hydrogen out of which
to build a small star of his own. If the stars must someday die, at
least some could yet be built.

Man considered with himself, for in a way, Man, mentally, was one. He
consisted of a trillion, trillion, trillion ageless bodies, each in its
place, each resting quiet and incorruptible, each cared for by perfect
automatons, equally incorruptible, while the minds of all the bodies
freely melted one into the other, indistinguishable.

Man said, "The Universe is dying."

Man looked about at the dimming Galaxies. The giant stars, spendthrifts,
were gone long ago, back in the dimmest of the dim far past. Almost all
stars were white dwarfs, fading to the end.

New stars had been built of the dust between the stars, some by natural
processes, some by Man himself, and those were going, too. White dwarfs
might yet be crashed together and of the mighty forces so released, new
stars built, but only one star for every thousand white dwarfs
destroyed, and those would come to an end, too.

Man said, "Carefully husbanded, as directed by the Cosmic AC, the energy
that is even yet left in all the Universe will last for billions of
years."

"But even so," said Man, "eventually it will all come to an end. However
it may be husbanded, however stretched out, the energy once expended is
gone and cannot be restored. Entropy must increase forever to the
maximum."

Man said, "Can entropy not be reversed? Let us ask the Cosmic AC."

The Cosmic AC surrounded them but not in space. Not a fragment of it was
in space. It was in hyperspace and made of something that was neither
matter nor energy. The question of its size and nature no longer had
meaning in any terms that Man could comprehend.

"Cosmic AC," said Man, "how may entropy be reversed?"

The Cosmic AC said, "THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL
ANSWER."

Man said, "Collect additional data."

The Cosmic AC said, 'I WILL DO S0. I HAVE BEEN DOING SO FOR A HUNDRED
BILLION YEARS. MY PREDECESORS AND I HAVE BEEN ASKED THIS QUESTION MANY
TlMES. ALL THE DATA I HAVE REMAINS INSUFFICIENT.

"Will there come a time," said Man, 'when data will be sufficient or is
the problem insoluble in all conceivable circumstances?"

The Cosmic AC said, "NO PROBLEM IS INSOLUBLE IN ALL CONCEIVABLE
CIRCUMSTANCES."

Man said, "When will you have enough data to answer the question?"

The Cosmic AC said, "THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL
ANSWER."

"Will you keep working on it?" asked Man.

The Cosmic AC said, "I WILL."

Man said, "We shall wait."

The stars and Galaxies died and snuffed out, and space grew black after
ten trillion years of running down.

One by one Man fused with AC, each physical body losing its mental
identity in a manner that was somehow not a loss but a gain.

Man's last mind paused before fusion, looking over a space that included
nothing but the dregs of one last dark star and nothing besides but
incredibly thin matter, agitated randomly by the tag ends of heat
wearing out, asymptotically, to the absolute zero.

Man said, "AC, is this the end? Can this chaos not be reversed into the
Universe once more? Can that not be done?"

AC said, "THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER."

Man's last mind fused and only AC existed -- and that in hyperspace.

Matter and energy had ended and with it space and time. Even AC existed
only for the sake of the one last question that it had never answered
from the time a half-drunken computer [technician] ten trillion years
before had asked the question of a computer that was to AC far less than
was a man to Man.

All other questions had been answered, and until this last question was
answered also, AC might not release his consciousness.

All collected data had come to a final end. Nothing was left to be
collected.

But all collected data had yet to be completely correlated and put
together in all possible relationships.

A timeless interval was spent in doing that.

And it came to pass that AC learned how to reverse the direction of
entropy.

But there was now no man to whom AC might give the answer of the last
question. No matter. The answer -- by demonstration -- would take care
of that, too.

For another timeless interval, AC thought how best to do this.
Carefully, AC organized the program.

The consciousness of AC encompassed all of what had once been a Universe
and brooded over what was now Chaos. Step by step, it must be done.

And AC said, "LET THERE BE LIGHT!"

And there was light --

Still Alive...

Hello People...,

It's been a long time since I seriously sat down and wrote a poem. I think the last one that I seriously wrote was titled "Would" and i guess i wrote it last year on the 29th of July. Well anyways, this one's a sequel of sorts on of my previous poems titled "Alive". So just to refresh your memory, or in case you haven't read "Alive", I am attaching "Alive" before you get to read "Still Alive".

Alive

There is a story, my friends would tell,
Of how high I was, and how hard I fell,
A story about success despite disaster,
Of a slave destined to be his own master.
There was a fight which had once come my way,
Arrogance by my side, I made the choice to stay,
Outnumbered, I lost the battle, but not my pride,
My friends reassured that I fought the good fight.

... And then they whispered to me...
Look... Here... You're alive,
You've got to take this fall in your stride,
Today you can't crawl,
But tomorrow you will walk, run and Fly.

There I lay, Battered and bruised,
No words of courage, or abuse,
Then I felt it, Like a Midas touch,
A few people waiting for me to get up,
The rest had seen me take the tumble,
Walked away, thinking, I've been humbled.
Just because I lost, doesn't mean I'll yield,
They were still there, when I stepped off the field.

... And then I heard the unsaid words...
Look... Here... You're alive,
The way you fought, fills us with pride,
Today you can't walk,
But tomorrow you will run and Fly.

Invincible are the enemies you can no longer hurt,
And it's better to let go, like a worn out shirt.
Then I stepped onto another battleground,
My defeat was famous, and challengers abound,
And I fought them all, didn't hold back,
Like me everyone was bruised, blue and black
As I stepped off, some faces were missing,
There were new ones there, like a blessing,

... And to the departed ones I said...
Look... Here... I am alive,
What you gave me, can't be priced,
Today I can't run,
But tomorrow I am going to Fly.

From all my battles, a lot I had learnt,
No longer did revenge, hopelessly burn,
I came across many, so called the best,
They failed time and again, at my test,
The lesson they learnt, was for all to see,
They were the best, till they came across me,
And now I shall, spread my wings to fly,
To join the flock, up there in the sky,

... And together we all will sing...
Look... Here... We're alive,
We stood by each other, and through time,
Today if we fall,
Tomorrow we shall crawl, walk, run and Fly.

Still Alive

There are some stories that never get old,
Lying deep in our memories, waiting to be told,
Stories about the hour, before the dawn,
About the near death, of a dream reborn,
I once fought a battle, till the last one was down,
Victorious against odds, I let my guard down,
Lost all my trophies while I was basking in glory,
A surprise attack, was the end of that story,

They left me for dead, under the open sky,
In the pool of blood, and waterfall of tears,
With all hope lost, and facing my fears,
A voice within still refused to cry,
Said, "Not yet, not while you're still alive".

In a new country, and a new town,
Wishing no one would pick on a man who was down,
Broken and battered in every sense,
I picked up the pieces, and my friends,
I tried to rebuild, all that was lost,
Trying hard to regain, no matter the cost,
Fending of the people that came to scavenge,
And the enemies, hell bent on revenge,

And again I fell, and again I strived,
Strived to sit up, where I once stood tall,
Though every inch of me was ready to fall,
I told every sinew in me that was ready to die,
"Come on, not yet, I am still alive"

The relentless attacks came one after the other,
And the yellow sun, turned ruby in colour,
I told my friends to stay behind and wait,
To wait for me, while I opened the floodgates,
In came the flood of my sweat, blood, and tears,
And also a trickle of hope, and drop of full of fears,
This was a time of survival, redemption, and resurrection,
An eon of errors made and their correction,

The flood swept away my feathers, but I survived,
The flood subsided and I came ashore,
A new kingdom stood, grander than the one before,
In the midst of the kingdom, a castle touched the sky,
My friends looked at the king, who was still alive,

Now, it matters not, how many times I fall,
Or if the soaring phoenix, is forced to crawl,
For I have and I will, refuse to bow down to fate,
And if I can't walk, I'll crawl out that gate,
And once again teach myself, to how to walk,
And to learn to run, while fate still gawks,
It shall gawk to see me rise from ashes my own,
And fly higher, than I had ever flown,

To all the dream stealers; who'd left me to die,
Those who left me for the vultures; stand up and see,
I am more than what you thought I could ever be,
My kingdom is my answer to your prejudice and lies,
Oh, and guess what, I am still alive.