A flower in
flight with glittering opal gleam
A flower in flight
with glittering opal gleam,
drifts – a live
spectrum in the enormous light
of tropic sun –
the butterfly, as bright,
no, drifting,
brighter than the radiant beam.
If out of shadows
any threat should come,
it drops at once,
folds its lustre away,
and gutted, among
colourless decay,
lies the
untraceable small shard of sun.
Flitting from my
Brahman’s world fire within,
my soul through my
own nature hovers in
His light,
reflecting Him in poetry.
Should reason
stalk me, jealous, arid, grey,
I’ll gravely,
sagely weigh each word I say,
blissfully hidden
in my mimicry.
No comments:
Post a Comment