Kite

I dreamt my kite would soar,
I let the thread more slack,
the kite reached new heights,
but slipped off my hands.

I see the aimless drifting kite,
the uncharted lands it has seen,
the tail of thread that tries to hook on,
but the winds are too strong.

I run after the drifting kite,
to catch it when it lands,
tired or torn from the winds,
into my praying hands.

I have suffered running more
than I enjoyed flying kites,
I don't plan to fly more,
till I don't mind loosing kites.