By the millions
Across the ages
In this land of ours,
Mother,
You were sought after
As a source perennial
For creative sustenance.
Inspiring poets,
You made them
Sift and sing values
Out of the invisible flux. Of the visible existence
That lives on
In the undying wed-lock Of life and death
Guided the sages,
And made them see
Your mysterious universe
in their silent contemplations.
Mother,
We, now, do feel thy graces
On our ancient ages
That gave cosmic directions
To their mortal situations
. Wherefore, Mother, then
We miss them
And find ourselves
Like ships on high seas
In perpetual storms
Without rudders?
We drag on our lives
Like haunted beings,
Betraying atonce,
Noise and gloom
Dead yet living.
All that is left for us,
Is to look back
As old and decrepit men
At their youthful years.
Making us
The spirit within us
Is drowned in the cess-pool of flesh
mere automatons
Run by desires.
I fear, some day
We might envy animals
For their instinct;
And yet live on merrily
In the material comraderie,
Without even wondering why,
You allowed
This retrograde evolution!