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Thursday, March 08, 2007

TO BE BORN A RIVER ..

The Ganges at sunset looks very beautiful..the rays of the setting sun create an orangish luminescence on her surface....
How would it be to be born a river..and witness this each day...


To be born a river, to wander for destinations,
To just be pure water , oblivious of stern definitions.
Pristine in form , bathed in sunlight,
the calm sheath unaware of the shimmering orange bright,
To carve a path , to leave a mark
colorless in my hands, black at dark.
To witness sunset and sunrise across her vast expanse,
The graceful meandering poses to humble and entrance,
To dwell with the starry skies at night,
To weave dreams of the silvery moonlight,
To be dressed in the silk of an exquisite elegance,
To roar in agony and then the powerless pretence,
To share aquaintance with the bird that flew,
To hum the song of the winter wind that blew.
To dictate the banks, to know their spread,
To lead with wisdom and yet still be led.
To know the boats that glide so swift,
to feel the pulse of the silent currents that drift.
by night, by day,
a constant momentum invited forever to stay.
to have no beginning, to have no end
to discover the pleasure of acknowledging each bend,
to hold in sacred trust , the deep secrets of the land,
to satiate, to nurture, the parched dry sand.
water upon water, thus to feel rain ,
one with itself, the sprinkled easing of pain.
Translucent watery eyes, with floating ,changing dreams,
they own none, just mirrors to the cast themes.
She has a story she never tells,
she shapes a rock but never dwells.
The detached attachment of a wanderer true,
She speaks to heaven's across the blue
She charts her own course , free to flow,
But only of the ocean she must know.
To merge and still contain,
To give up and still refrain.
to own an identity beyond what engulfs her whole,
to exist an existence she casually from the mountains stole,
to mystify with her raw sanctity,
childish anger, sacred divinity
to hold many names , to still elude description
to just tame water and yet kindle imagination.
an enormity beyond what my perception can deliver,
I smile at the evening thought ..."to be born a river" ..

2 comments:

Chintan said...

I smile at the evening thought - "To be born so gifted with words" B-E-A-utiful! :-)

sagaRedefined said...

So pristine and so very humble,
Ur beautiful poetry makes my thoughts rumble,
Stirring the heart and bending the mind,
It flows untethered, nothing to bind.
Words, I believe, always contain the thought
But this very poem has proved it a naught.