Under the noon day haze, sleeping*

Under the noon day haze,
Whence i ruminate, about us,
Our ways of hatred, that rips our World,
Essentially which had been made by Mother
The most profound, the Vast, the most Beauteous,

I strive real hard to go away, to You, love,
I try hard, desperate, in search of finding You,
Diva of my Heart, my eyes, my veins, my Soul,
Alas, i find you not, nowhere,
Not even near thy River,
Where go i oft,looking for You,
To that source, where me thought
You could with unhurried steps arrive,

Alas, i find you not love,

Then, how, loitering , around,
Catching the breeze blowing
With Thy providence, as a faith almost,
Knowing, how i keep rowing
Boat little mine,

Till, i am made to turn up
Somewhere near those ghats,
Where i can safely anchor me
And out of water whence i out,
I come, near a Big Tree, spreading her shade ,
Near those rocks and boulders where
I could laze a bit, from the noon day heat,

How, i suddenly envision You,
Love, there, right there, asleep,
Completely ignorant of anything,

O how i see, oil on canvas,
You, motherly, sleeping quite,
Your head slightly bent,
Zeus as if guarding You,
Forever on vigil,
And you there, perhaps in your dream,
Think of our small lives, our timeless Origin,

How i try to grasp, the meaning of You,
Asleep, as in view, for all,
No one, daring to wake You Up,
No one, kneeling perhaps to pray,

Or is it ,
As Simon thought,
You art so full of Bliss
And So serene perhaps
Thou hath made the Air,
That You , Yourself, Slept,
Noiseless as the World became,
By Thy Providence,
O You, the Eternal Dame.

(*Note: loosely based, upon a painting titled "Sleeping Venus" as done by Simon Vouet, between 1630-1640, oil on canvas.)

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