The oldest or the youngest set it afire
Flames leap up coloured, rise to the sky
You think of him, his self and all the whys
By this river flowing, this banyan tree
Roaring and whining, peculiar breeze
Calling loud on you, hard listening
Over the heart but thoughts flow in
It's a chaos, rush now smouldering
Peace sensed near, far from being
The night wild hung, dark eerie
Men squat exiled in twos and threes
Whispering over crackling bones
Vision blurred off gazing stones
Asleep or half, dead or numb
Sad, small, worlds transient
Wait for ' flowers,' the dead man's ash
As drunk mindless, we behave and act
Self, non - self, objects live and dead
Freedoms binding, liberation mistaken
Far, far, before existence staring now
Upon facts simple, the truth be found ...
No comments:
Post a Comment