Man of The God

Oh Man of the God,
This be my epistle of devotion,
Call it not an act from a Shakespearean drama,
It be the truth, and truth alone,
I be not a performer of farce or a Thespian art,
I be the Almighty's caste,
Born in the material World, amongst the most earthly beings,
It suffocates me to be a fragment, of such a false galore,
'Cause of which, I deal often with thine sarcasm and ridicule,

We be born, each one of us souls here, in different cultures,
We be born as different people, with different values,
We be born midst democratic, dictatorial or a secular set-up,
We be born , to follow, or to challenge, the ways and the rules,
Be it wrong or right,
We be born to think, contemplate and know, what for us be right,
I, breathe by force midst such worthy and unworthy beings,
But nothing deters my dedication or devotion towards my promises,
My ultimate goal,
Oh Man of the God,
Call not a loving heart, a performer,
By addressing such, be not a part of the crowd thou not belong,
For thou be special, thou be righteous, thou be the sole different form,
That defines rectitude, in this World of blasphemy,
Where every soul breathes irreverence and dishonor,

Hear me if you may, read my thoughts if you possess the eye for it,
Which I know thou alone do,
For thou be the true Man of the God....

(c) S.S 21/06/2016




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Feet in Blood !

(c) Shilpa Sandesh Her gaze is set, At the wide spread ahead, Lights glimmer, Racing motors on the road, And noises undefined, From far away; But no landscape can collate, With the bruised patches, in her heart; No motors are at par, With the speed of her hastening thoughts, And no clangor as loud, As the shrieks of her caged soul; Blaming is like, Plucking the petals,  of a blossoming flower, To take the blames, Is like being pushed, To walk bare foot on thorns; It's a puzzle, it's a jumble, Her inner self is, Disarrayed, cluttered,  It's a muddle; Those moments are no more, When she was, Besotting to his eyes; When her tears made his eyes wet, When seeing her in pain, His heart ached; She is a reflection, Of the fate's rebound, In the broken mirror; She walks, On the scattered glasses, And Oh! My feet are in blood!
Read more

A Puppet

(c) Shilpa Sandesh Born a free soul, With wings to fly, Bound she stands, Entwined in compromises Tethered are her hands with the strings of liabilities, Muddled are her steps, in the lashes of limits and boundaries; She loved once , with all her heart, The tenderness and fondness, that's doomed today; She smiles when she's sad, And cries when happy; The tiny wonder, Is her sole sustenance, All that she has won, as the fruit of love; An emotional fool, And destiny's blunder, She calls herself, The hell's wonder; She craves for that warmth, that unconditional love, A whim for those vows, a desire for that embrace, And, In the hands of time, A puppet she is, In the fate's haze!
Read more

My Brave Knight

(c) Shilpa Sandesh Handsome and pleasing, Like some prince, In a lore, A striking sight, He's my brave knight; Sanguine and certain, Commanding and sturdy, furious yet calm, Like the glistening sun, And the stars so bright, He's my brave knight; A warm embrace, A gentle heart, Resolute and steadfast, Aiming the dart, With a scrupulous sight, He's my brave knight; Audacious and fearless, Valiant in the stormy winds, And the winter's chill, The searing sun, Or the rainy nights, He dauntlessly steps forth, Heroic he is, He's my brave knight.
Read more