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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Debate also should rage if doctors know The mystery that human body is: It takes two hundred muscles, all on go To take but one baby step with some ease, Body veins stretched, end to end were to ply, Two rounds around Earth’s bosom well are made, Body cells in millions when daily die, An equal sum in even time gets bred. And yet nigh little’s known of universe That lies within— we know more of far space, Of ailing body, it gets even worse, Ah ignorance is bliss should God us bless! If left are we to let sleeping dogs lie, What happened years back would ever apply? No, what happened would never apply, For, human soul always knows how to heal If can silence noise of mind raging high, Few patients have due patience and will. As every patient has to find his peace, I too had to, and realized rather late, Though I suffered, shed tears to seek my bliss, For, things happen only at its due date. To heal, we seldom go to a healer, I perhaps approached not someone that heals, Maybe, he was more meant things to trigger, Maybe, I could not silent my mind’s ills, My endurance did build a defence wall, Two scores and more years back, as I recall. ________________________________________ Crown of sonnets | 03.11.2012, revised July 2023| Poet’s note: With these last two parts, IX and X, the sequel of ten sonnets constituting one single poem called a crown of sonnets is concluded. The last line of the preceding sonnet is repeated as the first line of the next sonnet, but not verbatim; nor is the first line of the poem is the last line taken totally as is. The sestets are either a quartet and a couplet or two sets of three-lined Terza Rima. Hurt is the place from where light enters, and it did, I realized after my long-drawn medical treatment.
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