My childhood heart grew only in size
With a plethora of poetic thoughts.
In nature, it remained delicate
Like gossamer wings of the butterfly.
The river behind my hut knows it,
So does the sore-footed camels in the desert,
The mysterious desert which keeps
Enfolding truth in million hues different.
My heart knows but layers of love,
Turning my pen to a brush sometimes
And my brush to a pen at other times.
The rays of the sun, unfiltered
Warms it early morning when the
Scholars erudite write about life
And the various riddles of existence,
With precision flickering and clarity luminous.
With freshened elan, it drowns itself
Everyday in the ocean of compassion
Where soul-raising sights come to the surface
Setting my imagination ablaze
With the thoughts that have been
Gestating in my mind for a long time indeed.
My heart has never been geared to success,
Name or fame, riches or luxuries.
It lives in the present,in the moment
More precisely, never surrendering to
The foul or foolish, evil or devil.
Keep beating my beautiful childhood heart,
Beat gracefully in spirits high
And purity artistic.