A profound poem by +krishna mohan !
One Teacher and 26 Disciples
On the wings of the eagle
You observe
arrogance transform into Advaita;
In the flight of the butterfly
You watch
boastfulness change into Beauty;
In the cry of the hungry child
You see
callousness transform into Caring;
In the cuts of the depressed friend
You watch
despondency grow into Devotion;
In the ranks of the chosen few
You feel
elitism give way to Encompassing;
In the despair of poverty
You experience
fascism evolve into Friendship;
In the poverty of soul
You sense
ghouls blossom into Gods;
In the soul of a corpse
You notice
hate develop into Honesty;
In the timed hunt of a tiger
You watch
illiteracy turn into Illumination;
In the effort of a mule
You feel
jaundiced minds grow into Joy;
In the flight of a kite
You see
killing morph into Kindness;
In the death of a lion
You glimpse
loathsome matures into Loyalty;
In the throes of passion
You experience
materialistic evolves into Maturity;
In the games of love
You feel
nescient differentiate into Nirvana;
In the work of cyanobacteria
You recognize
obdurate grow into Omniscient;
In the tears of an elephant
You observe
pessimism turn into Patience;
In the fears of a child
You sense
quixotic become Quantized;
In the love of a mother
You watch
reason evolve into Resonance;
In the words of a politician
You glimpse
sarcasm develop into Supramental;
In the meetings of lovers
You observe
taboo turn into Triumph;
In the cocoon of a butterfly
You see
ugly become Unparalleled;
In the blood of a soldier
You grasp
vitriol turn into Valor;
In the song of a cuckoo
You hear
wantoness warped into a Warrior;
In the hands of friends
You sense
xenophobia develop into Xeniality;
In the food on the table
You taste
yucky change into Yeasty;
In the silence of yoga
You experience
zany reach the Zenith;
In the broken pieces
I reflect
All of You in One;
(c) Krishna Mohan 2015
One Teacher and 26 Disciples
On the wings of the eagle
You observe
arrogance transform into Advaita;
In the flight of the butterfly
You watch
boastfulness change into Beauty;
In the cry of the hungry child
You see
callousness transform into Caring;
In the cuts of the depressed friend
You watch
despondency grow into Devotion;
In the ranks of the chosen few
You feel
elitism give way to Encompassing;
In the despair of poverty
You experience
fascism evolve into Friendship;
In the poverty of soul
You sense
ghouls blossom into Gods;
In the soul of a corpse
You notice
hate develop into Honesty;
In the timed hunt of a tiger
You watch
illiteracy turn into Illumination;
In the effort of a mule
You feel
jaundiced minds grow into Joy;
In the flight of a kite
You see
killing morph into Kindness;
In the death of a lion
You glimpse
loathsome matures into Loyalty;
In the throes of passion
You experience
materialistic evolves into Maturity;
In the games of love
You feel
nescient differentiate into Nirvana;
In the work of cyanobacteria
You recognize
obdurate grow into Omniscient;
In the tears of an elephant
You observe
pessimism turn into Patience;
In the fears of a child
You sense
quixotic become Quantized;
In the love of a mother
You watch
reason evolve into Resonance;
In the words of a politician
You glimpse
sarcasm develop into Supramental;
In the meetings of lovers
You observe
taboo turn into Triumph;
In the cocoon of a butterfly
You see
ugly become Unparalleled;
In the blood of a soldier
You grasp
vitriol turn into Valor;
In the song of a cuckoo
You hear
wantoness warped into a Warrior;
In the hands of friends
You sense
xenophobia develop into Xeniality;
In the food on the table
You taste
yucky change into Yeasty;
In the silence of yoga
You experience
zany reach the Zenith;
In the broken pieces
I reflect
All of You in One;
(c) Krishna Mohan 2015
Un poem magnific! Vă mulțumesc! V-am urmărit cu atenție fiecare strofă, fiecare vers...
ReplyDeleteDe mai multe ori am experimentat această situație:
ReplyDeleteNu mai cred în frumusețea sentimentelor,
Ea nu există.
Nu mai cred în dragoste,
Ea nu există.
Cred doar în puterea malefică a banilor
care scimbă și schinomosește suflete...
Aceasta cred, uneori...
Îți spun aceasta, cu o profundă tristețe, ca unei mame...
It does happen in the kind of world we are living in. The evil may shredth soul but the soul is strong. It will triumph.
Delete