His nonchalance well observed...
Those obscure links,written away in an ancient tongue...
Wrinkled rivulets,meandering the magnanimity....
Pallor grim yet profound...
He sits their,his beard,
caught in the ebb time currents of his age...
He smiles down,long forgotten happiness,
it has been long forgotten,his joy...
But he smiles,remembers his vanity,
trusts his children running across his horizon...
Violin strings in the distance seem to have struck a chord
which has broken his silence...
Yet again those eyes,beady,
standing atop his magnificent pallor,
glistening like those deep clear wells,
delving into dark depths,dungeons,
wherein past has been kept away,
hidden,buried,but still...
But still,those wells,are the passive donors,
those wells,deep yet sources of the fluid essence of our life...
And again those deep wells,lay covering...
Covering the dungeons which lead to the temper..
You see that calm face,with its gorges,with its unmoving sterility...
With its immovable mountains,and unfathomable deeps,
but Lord shall speak,if he must,about the dark depths...
The greatest bearded bard of our humanity...
The face of Experience,pacified and unperturbed
in these disturbed times,still rests...
© Karthik Adithya Singaraju
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