The path less hurried

The Path Less Hurried

Beneath the sunlit hills so green,

A race began, a sight serene.

Two souls set forth, both bold, distinct,

Their steps, a tale, in time succinct.

Young Aaryan, swift as mountain streams,

Chased the wind, the light, his dreams.

His heart burned fierce, his stride was fire,

But haste can dim the keenest desire.

Then Keshav, wise, his pace was calm,

His breath a rhythm, his soul a psalm.

With measured steps, he walked the trail,

For patience builds where others fail.

Through forests thick, the paths did weave,

A maze of shadow, leave by leave.

Aaryan rushed, but lost his way,

As Keshav paused, the map did say.

The river roared, its waters wide,

A challenge met on either side.

A log to cross, Aaryan sped,

While Keshav chose the raft instead.

The cliffs loomed tall, the final test,

The peak in clouds, the victor's crest.

Aaryan climbed with strength and might,

Yet wearied soon, the end in sight.

While Keshav’s pace, though slow and true,

Held firm and steady as morning dew.

And when young Aaryan slipped and fell,

A helping hand did break the spell.

Two hearts ascended, hand in hand,

The peak bore witness to what was planned.

For paths may differ, yet share they must,

The climb, the care, the sacred trust.

The elder spoke, his voice serene,

“In this race, the truth is seen:

Not speed nor might define the prize,

But patience, wisdom—life’s allies.”

Thus Keshav’s name, a mark of grace,

Yet both had won, in life’s embrace.

For slow and steady, bold and bright,

Together etched the tale in light.

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