What is the point of life,
A wise, unhappy man opined,
Hurdles deter at every strife,
The will to survive the daily grind,
Tireless, our existence crawls,
Nearing its eventual destiny,
To the ground, when time stalls,
Would raze our fruitless mutiny,
Things we hope to leave behind,
Seldom stand the test of time,
Ashes and dust merely do remind,
The living, of an uneasy, dreary rhyme,
War and peace and love and tumult,
Are mere distractions for the soul,
The cards that we are often dealt,
A game that cries instantly foul,
Oh Wise One! Said the poet he,
Do hear my penny's worth,
Through my eyes for a moment see,
The world I do put forth,
The quest for the bigger picture leaves,
The best of us in pain,
But for the man who still believes,
There's a world in each refrain,
The mounds of dust thou often see,
Are my fanciest memories,
That float the vacuous realm free,
My whims and my little vanities,
A moment's heat, a second's smile,
A gentle touch, a dainty tease,
A harmless wink, a lover's guile,
An hour's war, a minute's peace,
And the air that I shall breathe,
A testament to my existence,
And the ground I tread beneath,
And marks I leave of penitence,
Odes to her grace and form I write,
In the hope that someday far away,
My verse would flatter and delight,
Her, in pages carelessly cast away,
Oh Wise One! Do you now see,
The world I paint, My canvas bright,
To live in moments or merely flee,
Is one's own choice, is one's own right,
You tell your stories woebegone,
I spin a beautiful yarn,
Together from us a life is born,
Dusk and night and day and dawn!
A wise, unhappy man opined,
Hurdles deter at every strife,
The will to survive the daily grind,
Tireless, our existence crawls,
Nearing its eventual destiny,
To the ground, when time stalls,
Would raze our fruitless mutiny,
Things we hope to leave behind,
Seldom stand the test of time,
Ashes and dust merely do remind,
The living, of an uneasy, dreary rhyme,
War and peace and love and tumult,
Are mere distractions for the soul,
The cards that we are often dealt,
A game that cries instantly foul,
Oh Wise One! Said the poet he,
Do hear my penny's worth,
Through my eyes for a moment see,
The world I do put forth,
The quest for the bigger picture leaves,
The best of us in pain,
But for the man who still believes,
There's a world in each refrain,
The mounds of dust thou often see,
Are my fanciest memories,
That float the vacuous realm free,
My whims and my little vanities,
A moment's heat, a second's smile,
A gentle touch, a dainty tease,
A harmless wink, a lover's guile,
An hour's war, a minute's peace,
And the air that I shall breathe,
A testament to my existence,
And the ground I tread beneath,
And marks I leave of penitence,
Odes to her grace and form I write,
In the hope that someday far away,
My verse would flatter and delight,
Her, in pages carelessly cast away,
Oh Wise One! Do you now see,
The world I paint, My canvas bright,
To live in moments or merely flee,
Is one's own choice, is one's own right,
You tell your stories woebegone,
I spin a beautiful yarn,
Together from us a life is born,
Dusk and night and day and dawn!
4 comments:
"The whole of life is only a swan song! Never forget those lines:
The lion, when stricken to the heart,
gives out his mightiest roar.
When smitten on the head, the cobra lifts its hood. And the majesty of the soul comes forth,
only when a man is wounded to his depths." - Swami Vivekananda
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swan_song
This swan-song metaphor finds the deepest echo in me! A fundamental question which every wise-man fails to ask is this: If everything is perfect, what would man do?! A very obvious question and yet wise-man fails to put this question to himself.
As you put it in the last stanza, Life is a game made possible by the clash of opposing forces, joy and sorrow, good and evil etc, and the poet, a mystic at heart, understands this! Wise man has taken things seriously, life is a game to be played for the pure joy of playing, as Gita puts it LOVE FOR THE SAKE OF LOVE, play for the sake of playing!
Oooh! Wise Man! Looks like you're the Wise Man in this poem? :)
Good read!
Lovely. The best one actually.
Frooty, I'm a wise man at times and a poet at other times!
Thanks Auro!
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