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?
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