Saturday, 24 January 2015

sleeping in that cradle of birth

Cherishing the sight of happy souls,
One soul finds a companion breaking walls.
It reaches out to meet the eyes,
True eyes of course like the door-leaves,
Happy souls come forth as blighted ones-
Infected with struggle and laughter of pain,
Both blended, and the soul is baffled a while.
It now makes sense that things are different,
Body and mind are two but one-
And, self and heart are one but two-
Content, the soul retires to its proper incunabula,
Hibernating and waiting to be awoken again.


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