legend has it
once a king
covered by dust of gold
his all properties sold
for others...
he just sold...
at the streets of El Dorado
his soul...
for the poor...
for the destitute...
for the orphan...
for the dumb and the mute...
and then perhaps
a golden moon like this appeared
round and bold
blessed by Him
the Lord...
just like this
when he peered out of his visor-
he-a death penalty charged Ceaser...
and Brutus was he...
perhaps...
but he was so ready...
for all possible outcome
for he had found Him... the calm...
and also His golden gate...
where golden flag fluttered sans rest...
and Peace sang her most beautiful song...
where mind only for a long ride longed...
the longest possible journey...
from sticks and batons to sanity...
from hurls and brickbats to pride...
he was fully prepared for that golden ride...
and the golden moon
she shone with her succulent cause...
over the buildings and trees she paused
and watched the ascent...
an El Dorado kind...
No comments:
Post a Comment