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I had my blue slippers on to walk And went for an evening stroll There it was the resplendent sunset In the distant downhill The orange peachy colors with streaking rays Was it some Rayleigh or Mie scattering? For the sun (or the earth), the work was done for the day Yet, the man’s work is never over Neither in a day nor in life This strange vacant desolate feeling This subdued almost mute heart Earlier these floating swan-like clouds, These cotton field puffed seeds They would almost transport me to the imaginary Kailas, some exotic divine land Now, know not why – Has the imagination lake dried up? Is the heart tired of its constant ebb and flow? Has hope become a distant mirage? Is life a mere balance sheet? The flickering blue stars seem happy, content Seem to say: “ We do not remember the pain of violent birth Nor are we afraid of the distant turbulent end How can we be concerned with our past or future? Barely we comprehend complexities of femtoseconds Perhaps, we started in vacuum, dark matter, or blackhole May journey to a white dwarf Just busy living in the instant, In the ever renewing life In the company of loving astral bodies” |