The Argument

Simoni's younger little self, pesters him,

That he quit!

For it is nothing but useless hankering 

To knock at thy door. 

Tired and hopeless is he,

Looking at the futility

Of the continuous song,

Of the unending expressions of his love.

He longs for his muse to love him back!

For the God to appear in front of his eyes!

Simoni, confronts his younger self,

Lovingly arguing against his stance,

Standing by the river Nile,

In his white robe,

Being washed by the silvery moon light.

He smiles and looks at the distant star,

and says, "If she loves you back, will you still be who you are?

Mimed will not be your song, if blessed by presence of her?

Probably you would win her,

But will not you lose something more precious?

The preciousness of your pain?"

But then the little self, revolts again, accusing back-

"you romanticize your defeat!"

Simoni, smiles again, gazing at that distant star,

Gives a passing remark, 

"Who knows what is defeat, and what victory is!"

In that profound solitude, 

Simoni, kept walking by the bank of the Nile,

In total surrender to the enigma

Of the suchness of creation.

Questions reverberated from all around,

Sky, Moon, Wind and the river cold,

All stared on to the eyes of Simoni, and asked,

"Why it is that we feel. Why it is that we are!"

In an effort to discover that missing part of the puzzle,

Simoni continued to walk,

By the bank of the Nile.

The ancient start, light years away,

Kept looking at Simoni,

And when he again looked at him,

And their eyes met each other,

Simoni could listen to that silent whisper

From the ancient seer star!

The star twinkles burning 

In the fire of his love.

All alone and abandoned 

In the vastness of the cosmos.

But continues he to twinkle,

Since eons passed by.

For that is what is his destiny.

He is a star after all. 

And he has to twinkle!

He has to burn!

Simoni knew his answer to his little self.

To sing his song was his destiny,

To love was his purpose! 

Went back he, in silence, 

Towards the feet of his God,

In total surrender.

The feet was his altar of love,

He built it with great care and art,

Since ages, one tune at a time, 

One syllable at at time,

Embellished by one song after the other!

The gap of pain between the Nile and the moon,

Was the space in which that beautiful night was created!

The same was the charm of the beauty,

Of the solitary abandonment of the star,

And the lonely journey of Simoni.

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