Is it the eternal wait for the return
Swayed in the propensity -
To own and have?
Is it a throbbing
With the anticipation of acceptance,
In that special countenance?
Is it just about being bound,
Tied up to the daily chores?
Is it the eerie fake determinism,
Of borrowed ideologies?
Is it the make believe,
Artificial peace of hopeless irresponsibility,
Of standing for nothing,
Leaning on a hallucinated ideal for everything?
“Thou art mistaken”, shouted the Sky!
“Rather - his Stillness is beyond all!
Beyond all clamors of the personality.
It hails from a place where
The ideal is real and impersonal – known in its suchness,
Cleansed from the cravings of the mind and heart,
Bright and clean standing like the impersonal Himalayas!
It is about working in silence,
For love of the work,
With no aims but to give out the best
Hidden deep inside –
In the form of a poem, a stroke on stone, a song.
It is about building up a nation,
It is about carving out a humanity,
Deep in love, for love sake.
Still is Simoni,
Contemplating on the white marble,
Listening he to his own breath,
And the unheard whispers of nature!
Feels he the connection with that sublime Truth,
The Eternal Beauty!
Clamors Simoni not for power,
Not for love, Not for wealth,
Not for fame or fairness.
He just is still,
Contemplating on the white marble,
Striving to give to the cold grossness
The warm touch of his Love,
Making it permanent, embalmed within the marble,
In the form of those beautiful chisel strokes,
Creating the most beautiful expressions,
Sight of man has ever touched,
The pristine blessing from the invisible –
Through all his past,
The Past of his love, his pains, his torments,
And the ideal vision of the future as well,
Being enriched by never before,
Readier than ever,
To stand with its head held high,
In-front of posterity in the millennia to come!
Ushering mankind to a new morning,
A morning of glory, love and truth.
He toils, he observes, he thinks,
He works with his chisel – lost in solitude,
In scorching Sun, and in gushy rains,
In the chilly snow, and in restless storm,
Always engaged and focussed,
Building up artifacts reflecting the One.
Needs he has none,
To talk to any mortal,
Impress on any one,
To search for love outside.
Needs he has none,
To share his thoughts,
His ideas, his love,
To any one out there.
For he knows the sacredness
Of his heart, his love, his ardor!
Questions he, how can the eternal grace,
Be captivated in the expressions of mere mortals?
His love is too grand to be held in the clutches of language,
His prayer too profound to be sung out loud.
Thus in stillness aloof,
Simoni sits
Contemplating on the marble.
The sky asked in amazement though,
Is it so simple to transcend the needs and the clamors?
The passions of the heart and the mind?
Is not on contrary, being just a human justifies all?
To want, to have, and to be Happy?
Simoni looked up to the high Sky,
Immediately replied he,
The point is not about what is easy and hard.
The point is not about what is right and wrong.
Rather, the point is walking which way -
The way of an ordinary lad,
Or the way of Michel Simoni!
More poems on Michel Simoni are available at
http://criativ-mind.blogspot.in/search/label/SIMONI%20SERIES
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar
Swayed in the propensity -
To own and have?
Is it a throbbing
With the anticipation of acceptance,
In that special countenance?
Is it just about being bound,
Tied up to the daily chores?
Is it the eerie fake determinism,
Of borrowed ideologies?
Is it the make believe,
Artificial peace of hopeless irresponsibility,
Of standing for nothing,
Leaning on a hallucinated ideal for everything?
“Thou art mistaken”, shouted the Sky!
“Rather - his Stillness is beyond all!
Beyond all clamors of the personality.
It hails from a place where
The ideal is real and impersonal – known in its suchness,
Cleansed from the cravings of the mind and heart,
Bright and clean standing like the impersonal Himalayas!
It is about working in silence,
For love of the work,
With no aims but to give out the best
Hidden deep inside –
In the form of a poem, a stroke on stone, a song.
It is about building up a nation,
It is about carving out a humanity,
Deep in love, for love sake.
Still is Simoni,
Contemplating on the white marble,
Listening he to his own breath,
And the unheard whispers of nature!
Feels he the connection with that sublime Truth,
The Eternal Beauty!
Clamors Simoni not for power,
Not for love, Not for wealth,
Not for fame or fairness.
He just is still,
Contemplating on the white marble,
Striving to give to the cold grossness
The warm touch of his Love,
Making it permanent, embalmed within the marble,
In the form of those beautiful chisel strokes,
Creating the most beautiful expressions,
Sight of man has ever touched,
The pristine blessing from the invisible –
Through all his past,
The Past of his love, his pains, his torments,
And the ideal vision of the future as well,
Being enriched by never before,
Readier than ever,
To stand with its head held high,
In-front of posterity in the millennia to come!
Ushering mankind to a new morning,
A morning of glory, love and truth.
He toils, he observes, he thinks,
He works with his chisel – lost in solitude,
In scorching Sun, and in gushy rains,
In the chilly snow, and in restless storm,
Always engaged and focussed,
Building up artifacts reflecting the One.
Needs he has none,
To talk to any mortal,
Impress on any one,
To search for love outside.
Needs he has none,
To share his thoughts,
His ideas, his love,
To any one out there.
For he knows the sacredness
Of his heart, his love, his ardor!
Questions he, how can the eternal grace,
Be captivated in the expressions of mere mortals?
His love is too grand to be held in the clutches of language,
His prayer too profound to be sung out loud.
Thus in stillness aloof,
Simoni sits
Contemplating on the marble.
The sky asked in amazement though,
Is it so simple to transcend the needs and the clamors?
The passions of the heart and the mind?
Is not on contrary, being just a human justifies all?
To want, to have, and to be Happy?
Simoni looked up to the high Sky,
Immediately replied he,
The point is not about what is easy and hard.
The point is not about what is right and wrong.
Rather, the point is walking which way -
The way of an ordinary lad,
Or the way of Michel Simoni!
More poems on Michel Simoni are available at
http://criativ-mind.blogspot.in/search/label/SIMONI%20SERIES
______________________________________________
Copy Right © All rights reserved - Samrat Kar
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