Monday, June 1, 2009
A music emanating from stones,
A flaring beam of light, in darkness.
An oasis found too late for the wearied soul,
That stumbled and limped through gloom.
Why should the sky be aware of the agony
Of a bird that lost its wings in flight?
What is the need for a garden to express
Compassion in the angst of a blossom,
Whose petals have wilted, scorched and withered?
Is there anyone in this earth, who has ever realized
The truth of human life, and its mysterious ways?
These are like the way of the eagle in the air;
The way of a serpent on a rock;
And the way of a ship in the midst of the sea;
Unable to comprehend and profess!
Our earth is rotating on its axis and revolving
Around the sun, always in fixed orbits;
Like dawns, like dusks
The human lives are infinitesimal as births
And rebirths occur in its natural ways.
Who remains in this earth having understood
The vagaries and complexities of birth?
It still remains and stands out as a riddle!