Universal being...

At the evening
when the cicadas sing
and the well of smoke
with white curls trees and vegetation soak
and the distant rumble of train
fill the plain with euphemism-
He would take a seat
on the porch...silently tweaked
by Nature's overwhelming magic...
He would become a disciple
avid...restful and perfect recipient...
Of all little changes and things unchanged
Of wide and far and deep and profound range
Of the eternal as metaphors dense
To him like sluggish rain came...

'I got to write them down
somewhere in suitable form...
In golden alphabets perhaps which time could never drown...'
So thinking he took up his feathery pen...
So thinking he got engaged into a chain
of thought and imagination intertwined
He filled white pages of his enlightened mind...

It took a whole long day
As long as a decade could in mirror on soul stay...
It took real out of him...
His inexhaustible self merged into
the universal being...

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