In only living the life
He is tired-
From the present he retired into history-
***
My thought
Like brilliant sun
Fell
Upon the word
And its long shadow
Fell
Upon the century-
Sun was playing
With the early morning flowers
And time was frightened at the
Sight of martyr.
***
One-twentieth century devotee
Rang the temple bell………
From a distance
I heard
The old temple was coughing!
Its stones fell away
Here and there like teeth
Man
Is still in the temple
In quest of the super-human
To save him!
Those hands in the clock
Are not gymnasts in a circus
They are partners
In turning our life
Into time
The objects in creation
Have perhaps within them
Two turning hands
Which transform
Life into time
Dropping leaves
Flight of birds
Snow like moon
Melting away in the
Morning sky/skies
Are all but objects
Moving to join the procession
Towards horizons of time
* * *
(FROM SESHENDRA SHARMA’S ”POET’S NOTE BOOK ARC OF BLOOD” published in 1975)
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