Wisdom of the Father In the Son
In the vast riches of my Being
There is a sacred mountain range
In one broad swath of Space
Is the most verdant pine forest
Interspersed with cedars and the occasional oak
Yet the unity, the Consciousness, the Life
Seems eternal, peaceful, safe, even NOW
As I breathe deeply, the tears roll down my face
In one whisper all the swaying branches speak:
Don’t cut me, don’t burn me, for YOUR sake
The corner of sky is cerulean blue
Then a wispy cloud – thought: I must write – passes by
I do not attend. I hover between Being and Form
An iota of wisdom, as I answer her call and question
About immigration, work, survival. Be, do not think ...
(c) DEO,20180618
Copyright © Anil Deo | Year Posted 2018
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