It has been raining all night
Sometimes less, sometimes more
Little lakes have formed in the meadow
The trees are drenched to the core.
Though the pour has relented a while
The sky still wears the
gloomy garment
By the looks of Varun, the rain god,
the showers will resume the torment.
The recess is a time good enough
In my groovy garden outside
Chorusing winged angels have
descended
On all possible branches they ride.
Singing they are hymns
after hymns
Of gratitude, worship and praise
Can I remain oppressed by my gloom
Failing my heart to raise?
Their faces are drenched like clouds
Their feathers like lakes
Their voices betrays a shiver
The merciless torrent makes.
They must have bore the dark
Hours and minutes in sufferings and sighs
Yet before the sun has steeped
They are ringing the silent skies.
Conveying to the earth of mine
Tidings divine
Angels sublime
Pristine!
Xavier Bage
Tues, July 05, 2016
No comments:
Post a Comment