We own a pond of heart within
albeit full of our numerous sins.
Yet a lotus is about to bloom
in the depth of serene silence.
The lotus searches for it’s lost identity
in the solid darkness of ignorance.
Yet no dirt ever dare to impure
the divinity of the gentle petals.
The destiny of the pure lotus is certain.
It can’t remain in its confinement.
Tenderly it seeks for a way out
to emerge as a winning spirit.
It waits for the glimpse of light
for the bliss of a perfect flowering.
Sweet fragrance of the pious lotus
carry the truth of our existence.
It unfurls in the sanctity of nothingness
when soul rests in its infinity..
Maaya
—
An exquisitely rendered contemplative poem.
Thank you Louis..Your inputs are highly valued…