Flower I am by birth of fragrance fine,
Lucky I am you think.
But you know not
The drama behind.
Longed I to find Myself
on the crown of the Lord Almighty.
Wished I sometimes to shine
on the bosom divine.
Loved I to cling
To the Lord's feet,
The commissioned boat to cross,
The ocean of births.
If my fortune lacked calibre that warranted,
Preferred I at least,
To remain proud
On the altar in some corner.
Silent prayers I offered that our compound lot
Should not with a heap of flesh selfish,
Lead me to the neck weighed down
by a head materialistic of a politician dull.
Or that I should not fall on the idol
of a shrine from an official religious.
True! Who knows? Not all the priests of shrines
Are devotees humble and fine.
Hardly few physically near the idol
of the omnipotent
Know their fortune noble,
Nor they care for a devotee sincere & dear.
Am I to rest happy on the idol?
Lo! Torn out against my will
To fan the age of a rich mass of flesh
A minute or an hour one sq.ft of the sanctorum inner.
Enumerate I will my destiny sorrowful.
To adorn was my lot a body dead!
My Lord! Know I not what Soul it caught by destiny's lot.
My throat is dry. Guide me please
Tears filled my eyes:
Or am I destined to claim
Am I to scorn myself
Some honour to my credit.
Whithered was I lying
On the cemetry ground
By the grave of the body I was ordained to adorn.
The corroding interrogation of my mind
who will care to answer
A fresh sister of mine came to lie
calm & blissful on the grave so near.
Consoled I reached her
To know my lot super.
I had the blissful fortune of adorning the temple physical
That a soul enshrined Of consciousness expanded.
That lived, loved, served & lead
many a soul fortunate that it came across.
Fool I was to cry for my lot
Salvation I had reached I knew not.
Who else but a saintly soul through which Divinity flows
Can live to love serve and lead.
No comments:
Post a Comment