Idol of Clay
At the very last bend of the streaming river,
I came across a bunch of flowers
Floating on wild waves..
Up and down they bobbed and
dipped
Frantic frenzied in their bid
To rise,
Valiant to survive…
Five white petals with a red heart
At the center...
Each brave flower sweetly smiled
I came across a bunch of flowers
Floating on wild waves..
Up and down they bobbed and
dipped
Frantic frenzied in their bid
To rise,
Valiant to survive…
Five white petals with a red heart
At the center...
Each brave flower sweetly smiled
it’s sad
goodbye...
Each cried –
I am special – dear adieu
O master maker time doler
For the short span of my
Life –thanks and
Goodbye...
And such is life too
Soon we die-
goodbye...
Each cried –
I am special – dear adieu
O master maker time doler
For the short span of my
Life –thanks and
Goodbye...
And such is life too
Soon we die-
jumping in we float awhile
We bravely sink and swim and arise from
Dawn till dusk
We bravely sink and swim and arise from
Dawn till dusk
we roll your hand of dice
While the heavy idol we created from clay
and worshipped
And immersed in the stream
` Goes to rest…into
The mud-
bed of centuries
At the bottom of the rivulet,
Where the molten mud and clay of
stream and idol
Shall embrace and entwine
Till the pale of
Eternity.
And so
The Bed of Time Rocks us all to our rest.
The Living The Breathing, The Sentient,
The Idol and –
The dead.
And in the interim passage of hours,
Time blinds us with the beauty
Of its simplest handmaidens…
The flower, the bud, the blossom,
The chirpy cuckoo, the plaintive nightingale,
The goldsyrupy sunshine,
The melancholy moonlight,
Fire in the sky, wind in the water,
A folk song floating in night ether.
The breeze that briskly grows
Into a sharp salt wind
And howls into a screeching storm
Wailing walls of hurricane
The dolorous drizzle that turns to a
Downpour
Mellows to a shower and
Swiftly shrieks in raging blinding sheets of rain
Nature startled- thunders at itself and flashes lightning messages
To bring back calm...
Calm is discontent
To be so
And
Spreads its torment
To tear the fabric of our universe.
And so it goes...
Time turns out its full bag
Of tricks and treats for us,
And till the autumn of our lives
We blissfully forget
The Treat is almost over, but
The Final Trick
Remaining…
Death
The last rabbit
Drawn out of
Time’s hat
Raises it Baleful
Red eyes…
Right this way
Off to wonderland
Down the rabbit hole
Alice Alice
O Sweet child – Help!
And then –
We remember,
How gently the Idol lay in its restful bed
How it savored its muddy caress
And how blissful will it be,
When no longer the
Flower has to bob up and down-
But can disperse the tired withered petals
Summon courage to its tiny little
Heart
And Return the Favor
Of both Tricks and Treats
To Time.
While the heavy idol we created from clay
and worshipped
And immersed in the stream
` Goes to rest…into
The mud-
bed of centuries
At the bottom of the rivulet,
Where the molten mud and clay of
stream and idol
Shall embrace and entwine
Till the pale of
Eternity.
And so
The Bed of Time Rocks us all to our rest.
The Living The Breathing, The Sentient,
The Idol and –
The dead.
And in the interim passage of hours,
Time blinds us with the beauty
Of its simplest handmaidens…
The flower, the bud, the blossom,
The chirpy cuckoo, the plaintive nightingale,
The goldsyrupy sunshine,
The melancholy moonlight,
Fire in the sky, wind in the water,
A folk song floating in night ether.
The breeze that briskly grows
Into a sharp salt wind
And howls into a screeching storm
Wailing walls of hurricane
The dolorous drizzle that turns to a
Downpour
Mellows to a shower and
Swiftly shrieks in raging blinding sheets of rain
Nature startled- thunders at itself and flashes lightning messages
To bring back calm...
Calm is discontent
To be so
And
Spreads its torment
To tear the fabric of our universe.
And so it goes...
Time turns out its full bag
Of tricks and treats for us,
And till the autumn of our lives
We blissfully forget
The Treat is almost over, but
The Final Trick
Remaining…
Death
The last rabbit
Drawn out of
Time’s hat
Raises it Baleful
Red eyes…
Right this way
Off to wonderland
Down the rabbit hole
Alice Alice
O Sweet child – Help!
And then –
We remember,
How gently the Idol lay in its restful bed
How it savored its muddy caress
And how blissful will it be,
When no longer the
Flower has to bob up and down-
But can disperse the tired withered petals
Summon courage to its tiny little
Heart
And Return the Favor
Of both Tricks and Treats
To Time.
All rights reserved
(c) Amrita Valan 2014
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