My life is poetry
I recite in solitude.
As short as Basho's haiku,
As long as Bhagavad Gita--
No ears are to hear,
No critic is to review,
As private as a fetus in the womb, dearly loved--
As hidden as an unexplored cave, well protected--
There will be time when it travels out
To a place called a meadow of flowers
Where words become meaningless,
Senses truthfully shout.
That day I'll recite my life
To that whom I truly endear.
That day I'll sing my song
About the love I truly adhere.
a humble life is a tiny drop of water pushing out ripples on a placid pond– hidden and loved
rike jokanan 
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