Destiny..

With those trembling hands,

searching the garbage bin,

for a piece of bread,

perhaps paying for his sin.

Not looking for food,i wonder,

looking for his destiny.

covered with rags

which were torn to pieces,

bare legs with deep bruises.

Same destiny which once rested in his hands,

a Belief that he could

turn the world and find gold,

by hunting deserts of sand.

But time is no one's friend,

when hits like a lighting thunder,

no one can escape its fury,

be it Cesar or Alexander.

the fingers which once pointed to the world in pride,

are soaked into the garbage tin,

looking for a place to hide.

Not looking for food,i wonder,

looking for his destiny,

in the garbage tin.