Beneath the last trace of a jaundiced eye
Under the torpor
Of wilting wee hours,
I found some moribund trees.
Leaves trailing in a susurrus trance,
Like a frail man, struggling hard with his memories
To recreate the past, the ecstasy,
Quiet-forgotten jubilance.
Your eyes are trailing back,
Old faces turn anew.
None can hinder the ‘widening gyre’
That revolves a future with lofty glance
A pursuit for ‘immemorial glories’, still
‘Long-famous shames’, unsavoury pasts!
[Is it all I remember?
Is it what I craved for?
Waking up in a homely bed, caressing
The daylight in blindness
With a pristine, monastic delight?]
Winter was at its best,
So has been the summer.
A fetid monsoon gives way to
Another vernal gloom.
But hold! Still shines the light,
More grace I gathered, less is the hour of repent,
Now all these compounds,
Combusts
Constitutes,
And finally,
Are concentrated into a gushing waterfall on sterile pebbles…
Now here I stand,
You and I,
“When the evening is spread upon the sky”
Like an Erect tree, rejuvenated in fertile pebbles;
Ever the best with Hope,
Ever the best with Mercy,
Ever drenched in Eternal Forgiveness.
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