Like the brightness of innumerable stars
and heights reached by the lofty waves.And resonance in the enclosed cavity
perturbing silence of the night.Or like the restlessness of untamed youth
and blending of myriad of colors and shades.

The lotus dancing in excitement and reverence.
With the recurrent change in the Mother Earth
taking the cue not from the never-ending flow.

The narrator is lost in thought and expression.
As the introvert repeatedly withdraws
and the extrovert continues to append.

Or like the verses towering the clock of life
with remnants of symmetry left in the chaos.

The fear and joy from the flash of lightning
and thunder and hail from violent storm.

The invitation of flowers in full bloom.
The squeeze and warmth of the embrace,
matched by devotion of the ancient sage.

Fire rings expanding the universe within.
Like the transient habitat built in body
of the sand.

Or like the imagination of Omar Khayyam.
and the narration of Khalil Gibran.

I drink from the fountain of life.
As I sing the Creator’s glory and hymn.
At times imbued and often out of tune.