Simoni’s Soliloquy

At the fag end,
In the final scene of the drama of his life,
Aged 95, the old and fragile Michel Simoni,
Sitting on this favorite couch,
Was going through his old poems!

Having lost most of his memories to the aging brain,
Was he peeping into his now unknown past,
Through the window of those old poems,
In his old book he had labeled, “Old and Useless”!

Reading with deep involvement,
Like a young and devout fan of himself,
Did Simoni flipped through the pages,
Of his tattered diary of poems.

His eyes struck to one poem,
Written in gold ink, in that red page!
Took that up Simoni,
Strained his eyes close to the book,
Started reading he, his own poem,
Unknown of the past,
Like a new reader discovering a new poem!

As he started eyeing down word by word,
Of the age old poem,
Simoni started to recite, in rhythm,
Like a long forgotten song,
Remembering each word – one by one!

Simoni started with his tattered voice –

The Crowning Glory of the heavens,
From the distant lands of the Gods,
Descended thou in the lands of mortals,
In the world crowded by lowly creatures,
With their lowly ways!

Wretched and poor,
Insignificant and ugly heart of Simoni,
Hit was it with the arrow of the cupid,
When he one night bumped on those Most Beautiful Eyes!
It was a full moon night,
Walked the divine damsel,
By the river Nile.

The ordinary Simoni,
A poor blacksmith then,
Busy was he with hammer and anvil.
Was he trying to turn an iron rod.
And lo!!
Was there a strange apparition!
The iron rod turned to Gold Harp!
For some divine light had fallen from the sky!

Raised his head the young and poor Simoni,
And was he dazzled to his innermost core!
Was walking down the river bank,
The divine damsel,
With the Most Beautiful Eyes.

Could not he believe his own eyes,
Simoni pinched himself,
Thought he it was just a dream!
But alas!
It was not a dream, A reality was it!
An unwanted, ugly, insignificant, poor and dumb
Blacksmith was in love with
The divine damsel with the
Most Beautiful Eyes!

Saw Simoni the divine,
Stride the banks,
Could he see the jealous moon,
Of the beauty walking!
The craving Nile,
Yearning to have a moment’s
Touch of goddesses’ feet!
In the heavens he could see,
All Gods standing in awe,
Lost in the Beauty of the damsel divine!

Smiled Simoni at the sight.
Held he his heart throbbing,
Looked down he on his anvil,
His hammer and the fire.
He knew he was lowly,
But he was in love,
Deep and Profound Love,
Something he never had known before!

Wanted he to jump and run towards
The damsel divine,
Kneel before those Most Beautiful Eyes,
And sing a song of love,
Offering his heart – right then and there!

But stopped Simoni!
Realized he – His beloved was a heavenly delight!
Though he was in trance – deep in love,
How can the heavens match a tattered gutter?
How can there be spring in a desert?
How can solitaire be in the finger of a destitute?
How can an illiterate know what a poem is?
How can the lowly sand under the damsel’s feet,
Even dare to think to be part of her bosom!

Realized he with a smile,
His lowly stature!
Brought face to face,
The stark impossibility of the
Innocent desire of his heart.

Simoni patted his heart,
With sunken voice,
Most eyes,
And lump in throat,
Said he in a sad soliloquy,
“Heavens don’t meet the Earth,
Look down o innocent soul,
Be busy with the anvil, hammer and fire,
You lowly Blacksmith!
You are no God,
For the Goddess with the Most Beautiful Eyes,
Will never embrace in love,
Your parched, ordinary and lowly soul!

The love stuck heart,
Of the poor and broke Blacksmith,
Laughed aloud,
“Where is written the Goddess shall love in return,
For any love offered by the lowly mortals?”
“Is not it once in a eons privilege,
To have been graced by the glance of the damsel divine,
Having the heart of one,
Nurture the seed of love for those Most Beautiful Eyes?”
Is not it love’s labor returned,
With the iron rod turned into the Gold Harp,
With the glance of those Most Beautiful Eyes,
Having got the privilege to feel that love,
Profound and pristine,
In the lowly, insignificant and this worthless Heart!
Certainly may the Gods not attach me to the damsel divine,
For shall it diminish the beauty and grace of this world!
With the artless pairing of the heavenly finesse,
By an artless, soiled, scarred, ordinary and poor Heart!

Continued the Blacksmith,
Hitting this hammer to the iron rod,
Kept aside he the Gold Harp,
Hidden deep in his heart!

Out of sight of all mortals, sky, and earth,
Was the Gold Harp placed,
Wrapped with velvet of an ageless love!
With great care and affection,
Motionless and cold,
On the throbbing altar,
Of an empty and silent Heart!

The poem was over,
Simoni gave a silent smile,
The Gold Harp was still there,
In the same place,
Motionless and cold!
After so many ages!!

He was happy and fulfilled!
World had changed,
Now not he a Blacksmith anymore,
He was not poor and lowly!
Kings of seven lands,
Venerated him as the greatest Sculptor in the World!

But was he in love,
As ardent as ever!
That night by the river Nile,
Appeared to him as just yesterday’s dream!

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