Saturday, December 6, 2008

Voices over the Surf

Nature provides an ambiance where one gets close to the divine. It is in an unexpected moment that one is awe struck by the beauty of a single cloud formation or a a shape of a rock or the sound of the whistling in the wooded grove, that one's consciousness is elevated to a different level.

It is in one of those moments that I sat down and penned this poem. It hardly took a few minutes to write but the source was from some different region of existence.

Please travel the same road with me through this poem.
I sat amidst the spray from the breaking surf,
Transformed my inner being to an ethereal turf,
A power bestowed heightened senses to discern,
A kaleidoscope of voices thrown up from an urn,
Like ashes of the departed sown in the balmy wind,
To nature returned a temporal home this cycle find

In the distance, the mighty whale leads his pack,
Homing instinct this path and journey surely track,
This annual sojourn coded through million years,
Shoreward wind carries the clarion call all prey fears,
Symphony of a hundred notes his presence intimate,
This purpose a command or a love song to his mate.

On this sea I hear the deafening roar of ammunition,
A galley of war in the fog a ghostly definition,
Sails unfurled, the wind whistling, rigging taut,
Hundred hands loading the cannons victory sought,
An eerie mix of wounded cry and suppressed pain,
Chills my heart and a shiver runs down my spine.

Rudely waken from my dream on the water's edge,
Salty spray rests on my face as the dew on the hedge,
Perhaps an echo of my heart’s cry, I hear an inner call,
Your holy presence deep in my heart this evenfall,
Voices over the surf a concoction of emotion evoke,
But my heart this instant your eternal company invoke.

Love to you all

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