Mocking Bird

I have reached life’s edging water-side Where memory sit upon the rock Bathing in the evening’s fading sun. I have reached here, Where thought like pebbles cast ripples On sleeping stream and wisdom Like graceful fairy fan the air. Here, where the bridge Stayed burnt And the ashes blown away by fleeing age, Here where I could not return, Where naked I am to my mortal self, Naked… Oh mocking bird, The branch on which you perch Is but of weak reed, tied to time like me And must come like me to grey fruition. Will your song, Grey like me, holds same joy, Bear same verve, when like me, Life’s nothingness stares?