THE DIVINE GARB
I see a divine garb hanging round my body
In the early morning hours when I still feel bodily pains
And warding off all attempts to bring to an end
Night’s dreamy splendour;
I see the crimson colours of the divine garb
Absorbing the cooling effect of the early morning rays
The garb giving me the feel
That I am something of the very special
The divine garb is not like the one
Faked by rogue weavers
To make a gullible king walk half naked in the streets
The garment is indeed woven as a web
Where threads are smeared with thoughts pure and holy
To give them a dazzle and sheen
I get up not knowing what to do
Is the garment meant to convey a message
That I should play the role of a missionary
To make the man in the street learn his relationship with Almighty
Though a devoted soul I know I am hardly fitted to play such a role
My inadequacies are too many and too glaring
To dare and challenge those already in the field.
Is the garment meant to wake up in me thoughts lying dormant
Like particles floating in the rays of the morning sun
To enable me to join the ranks of knowledgeable souls
Whose message conveyed through word and print
Makes them unrivalled in the field of poetry or art
Here again I feel humbled
As the gumption that produced those wizards
Whose classics enthralled hmanity over the centuries
Is not what I can lay claim to with confidence.
I pick up a few granites of hard History
Which is all I could gather after digging over the years into realms of past
Though the effort is not much I can see the road ahead
I have an understanding how the world is what it is today
The chronicles are there for anybody to read
To understand the myriad efforts put forth by man to achieve progress
I find the divine garb is sent with a mission
To give cheer and hope to an agonised soul
Perplexed with dismay and despair
Facing the trauma of a life besieged with problems of aging and health
Its message is not to waver but put forth best effort
In the service of man even in a limited way
As the last days could also be best days at times
The mind cast in a mould of peace and content,
And God remains sheet-anchor in thought and deed.
Whole Dude - Whole Concept 