CALICUT, July 29, 2013 — Time. Times are a-changing. Time marches on. No time like the present. Time is one of those things of which we have a finite amount, be it the number minutes in an hour, hours in a day, or days in a lifetime.
Our souls keep track of what we do with those minutes, hours and lifetimes. And how we change to keep up with time.
The Soulful Soul
A life in prime attains more and less of the sublime,
Chancing upon sequestered spots, damp squibs lay barren,
A seat of fortune leaves behind traces of a bleak past,
Winds brush off clouds of angst, misery and misfortune,
Enchanting slender green grass, making waves in its wake,
Igniting the day, by unimpeded jaunts and odysseys,
As the grass grows luxuriantly beneath one’s callous feet,
Sweet spots continue to croon at length unabashedly,
Hissing away softly while reconnoitering serendipitously,
Seat stands firm against the furrows of generations,
Where ‘weak’ countenances with bewildered thoughts,
Strike a chord with their inner inconspicuous selves,
Chalking out ridges while engaged in trench warfare,
Splash! It drops anchor in the muddy puddle below,
Reflecting logs and larks that exist in divine symphony,
Carefree, in a delusion that escapes a world of stardom,
To establishments where the climate for survival heats up,
The mellifluous winds bearing shifty seed appear distant,
Bearing out a discordance- of ideas contested and won,
Alas, a life was much simpler- where the ‘soul’ seat remains.
Vishwas Anand of Bangalore is a published poet and writer. He currently writes at his own blog column as well.
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