The Rose
 |
| One of the first roses that bloomed in my little garden The following poem was inspired by it. |
Why do you look so
penitent
like Tagore’s
flower
that asked the master
to pluck it without delay
lest it droop and drop
into dust?
Aren’t we all made for the
dust?
You leave me wondering,
however,
whether it’s the same
master
that created the night’s
worm
Isn’t the worm made for
the dust too?
I wish there were roses blooming in my garden too... then may be I can pen some wonderful poetic lines like these. :)
ReplyDeleteTry growing roses; not very tough.
DeleteWe, the worm, the rose, are all going to dust one day, whether the Master wanted it or not.
ReplyDeleteDeep. This one.
Yes, dust is the ultimate reality. In the meantime the worms enjoy the real delights :)
DeleteProfound!
ReplyDeleteThanks.
DeleteDeath makes us same, what differentiates us is the life we live :) And is life worth living without acknowledging each moment?
ReplyDeleteThe lamb and the lion, the rose and the worm... Why did the master have to be so cruel?
DeleteProfound and beautiful :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words !
ReplyDelete☺
DeleteWonderful. Loved reading your poem
ReplyDeleteThanks. Glad you said it.
DeleteBeautiful poem.....liked how you brought Blake and Tagore together.....We are all made for the dust....but till we reach the end, a gentle touch would suffice....
ReplyDeleteA gentle touch, yes. The Buddha would nod in assent.
Delete