The happy self...

'Why there is nothing like grief
In you?
Why are you always happy?

Asked her
The mother...

And she said:
'For I am part of Him
By Him I am made
And by Him I die...'

I just sat
Felt she might be right...

'but then why all these?
Why can't I be like you?'

I tried to know
For knowledge only sows
Seeds of generation...
And so hungry was I
For more...
More of light
Without any proclamation...
Without any goal really...
I was just hungry;
(And when the hunger is overt
It surely comes out...
Through poems and prose
Through words...
Through silence...even...
That who can deny?)

The mother...
Said nothing...
She just
Spread before my eyes shooting light
And on my skin
She played the breeze
And in my ears
Came rumbling stream
And roars of clouds
For a moment thought
'Who am I?'


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