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PLEASE
GIVE THIS A TITLE
On the bank of the river, I sat, and my
mind winged,
Back to my days of the village, where
I lived,
Surface was so calm, though the water
flowed,
The trees and bushes and the sky well
reflected.
"Do you enjoy, the beauty of the village,
you civilized?"
"Who's it?" asked I and turned my head,
surprised.
"Here I'm, your village soul, don't you
recognize me?"
Told the ghost, or a man, sitting aside
me!
"Did you say, when met last, skin deep
was beauty?
"Yet you're here again, to derive joy
from the village beauty!"
I replied to my replica, "You're too naughty,
"Don't open up the vault of your village
bounty".
"I'll, for you must know the truth, that'll
die never,
"For truth's truth, none of your clan
can defy ever!
"If skin deep is beauty, how deep is your
love?
"Like the short breeze of summer, a feeling
of touch and go?
"Not even a hair, the breeze would move,
"For the force of artificial air, man,
you go,
"Longing for selfish pleasures, you go
for self-love,
"Man, the beauty I learned lies in self-less
love.
"I knew, your love's for power and fame
and money,
"You love color, and not sweetness of
honey,
"There is no panacea for the disease of
disharmony,
"Unless you, man, immerse your mind in
the pool of harmony.
"My village life, fed me the kind of food,
"That produced brotherhood,
"Cool breeze of my village, would bring
me mood.
"I failed to digest, man, your transition
didn't change love for good!
"Generations died ere you settled in conglomerations,
"Where you nurtured, your own ambitions,
"And you gave birth to forms of love,
in new versions,
"Anointed by avarice, leaving you to your
own aversions!
"Farmers in villages, loved toiling in
the sun, to feed
"And to save the seedlings, weeding out
the weed,
"But you, man, sow the seeds of greed,
"Neglected, indeed, moralities of your
own creed!
"Killed you, man, with stone in Stone
Age,
"You are killed inch-by-inch in Nuclear
Age!
"How civilized are you man? You kindled
the fire of rage,
"Imprisoned in the gaol of boundaries
and a war to wage!"
As the sermon was over, the sun cleared
its way,
For the moon to guard the night, as I
found my way.
S K Iyer
SK Iyer-12-8-99 |
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