It was a ball of fire then, hot and burning with exploding volcanoes...
The MOTHER tossed it upon her plams,
This way and that;
The ball of redness burnt deep into her skin,
And she cried with pleasure and pain alike...
She tossed and tossed,
Till the fire gave in...
And till her tears vapoured up to form clouds mammoth,
And the clouds rained and rained,
To cause the Great Inundation...
And then came the tiny throbs of life,
Of kinds so varied...
Of sizes so numerous...
Finally cometh Man-
Two legged, adventurers,
With a cranium holding chemicals alien.
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The State Funeral
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What had made Brahm to compose Such a tune, with such poise? What comforting idea made him To put music into such a rhythm? What inexpre...
marvelously composed poem that magnificiently speaks about the painstaking process linked so intricately with every earthly and cosmic creations....job well done..keep up the good work!
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