a poem by P.K.N. Panicker, India

In moments of solitude
Away from the maddening crowd,
ears shut to the invading noises
from screeching and hooting automobiles,
eyes focused only on the green trees
and flowering plants
viewed through the windows
of the quiet home
where even the dust and the sickening smell
that pervade the atmosphere
are shut out by the glass panels,

I yearn
to sport with nature in wild abandon,
as a tigress with her cubs,
a cat with her kitten
or a mother with her children,

to catch words and ideas
that usher divine experiences,
to bring the infinite within my grasp
erasing the gulf, if any,
between the thought and the fact,
every thought transformed into a fact
at some point in time,

to walk the path,
in a harmonised circle
sure to mesh and merge
with the footsteps of a billion wills,
moving in unison to a goal unknown
as part of an ongoing stream;
calm movements
of an interminable delight and peace
with eddies of sweetness
and may be bitterness too,

to walk the path
that ends where all struggle
is turned into a sweet strife of love,
affection and compassionate caring
and happiness,
the pure undying desire of all things living.

And the path ends nowhere.

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