Creation as comes from chaos

As cave-dweller O man, thou wert crudest, Ere civilized and a bit social made, In a painstaking long march to the crest, Evolving— a seed of creed mutated, Ye struggled long before brought home baked bread, As weeds lose out ere mutate in maze Of labyrinthine lanes darker than dread, From chaos were created newer ways. No growth hast grown that would not get modest, Undeterred, no head hath moved nigh ahead, All progress in time tends to pause post-haste, As brightest rainbows fizzle out to fade— The nature of Nature none can evade, Nature unfolds in long phase, not in days, To vales turn top peaks that were once jaded, Creation as comes in chaotic ways. In eons human hope kissed vales and crest, Surviving in cosmic womb, never dead, Suffering birth pain quite un-manifest, Remember, yon of that tall mountain head Lies your fond dream. Do walk on, go ahead, Not just on peaks, hope lives in vales, at base, In journey too to enjoy, never dread, A way forward comes from chaotic ways. Envoi Keep climbing, if hope be the only aid, Inhale hope in every breath, don’t just gaze, At rope’s end, O hang on by just hope-led, For, from chaos are built morrow’s fairways. ____________________________________ Musings | 03.02.2011 | Hope Poet’s note: Heart, it seems, lives on the edge of hope. The brooding head hesitates, delves into new depths, meanders, groping for a way out. Seeing the way much of the world is moving today, one tends to indulge in melancholic thoughts. Has man lost all hopes? I don't know but hope, it’s not so. Civilization, I suspect, is an inverted bell-shaped curve. Things get worse before they get better. Read also my ‘Hope: A bird wordless that sings', a ballade.