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Think, willed by whom ye wield thy will
Ye miss O painter in mindless vain mirth
That every shade comes from a rainbow's range,
Ye just copy Nature, is not it strange?
Not so is made with thy very own worth,
Nor music—Nature’s notes ye rearrange,
Use bit of mind that thou hast got by birth,
O think not thee as marvel on this Earth,
A smart machines art thou and not so strange.
Be not in awe O man of thy small head,
Nor feel so proud on thy mind's pompous powers,
Ye might have made some tallest of towers,
Not one compares with what Creation’s made.
Get down from thy vainest pedestal, then,
Think, willed by whom ye wield thy will O man.
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Sonnet | 01.08.2008 |
Poet’s note: The last line of this sonnet reflects what is said in the very first verse of Kena Upanishad: Kena eam patati pream manah… Willed by whom the mind so led wills?
Copyright ©
Aniruddha Pathak
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