A Contemplative Verse

It was all said in a moment...
That glare of exchange,
that contemplating thought…
Beauty of those keys went in,
With one moment ever lived more than the last…
I wonder, as this music wafts its flavour,
To the taste buds of my ears,
who upon noticing the divine beckoning,
extend their interest in this versified setting…
Contemplating, am I, this silence,
Wherein, a space has been vacated,
And yes, vacated with a single purpose of being filled…
The piano, yes, it is flowing,
Its music is ceasing not,
Naught, considering my own foolishness,
I see it brought out of the womb of Mother Earth,
This beautiful creation of Nature...
Contemplating in these vacant places, am I,
Three beats, and a note…
Three notes, and a beat…
Three hundred days, have unknowingly been spent
by this unsuspecting beast…
The junipers or those conifers,
The foxes or these snails,
Slow and fast, of these merry woods, have grown
And are now gone, but amongst those trees,
The stone walls of forgotten city, decaying,
Has that moist Lichen, slowly crawling,
Even in the absence of such a beauty
as human intelligence,
The papyrus existed without these papers..
Thoughts, aye, my very own,
Of merriment, sitting on that log of my dreams,
Listening to this piano, brings me that merriment,
Merriment that the fox found
trotting amidst the silent snows…
I lay, mute, I am the silent owl,
In a hollow of a green stump,
Ancient, but giving cottage to rising
mosses of the spirited green…

Tinkle of these high key notes,
And now I drift to those walks,
Amidst the woods, of convenient verses,
Amidst the rivers of free words,
That my common friend could contemplate,
As I and he, that friend of me, travelled,
Not very far from here,
But under the canopy of such an exquisite avenue,
That the very earth seemed draped in the yellow
Leafy dress, woven by those very trees…
Moist soil, underneath our feet,
With the Great Black spider,
seeking shade in its much laboured abode…
Moist, and walking down such a lane,
Which thereof remembers that we had been…
For I have never seen, my dear nature,
hiding the history…
All, my wanderings,
And all my curiosities within this small
universe that keeps me busy in dreams,
Has but shown me that all that we lose with time,
Come out, draped within those rusty dust and gravel stone,
All but gained a form, that of nature’s son…
Timid, those birds sang away, in glory,
While the urchins, sent to church, yonder,
Passed that rainy evening, with their smiles flying by…
Now, these simple notes, of the divinity,
Harmony, as I have versed someplace else, of epiphany,
In my piano music, that I contemplate within my ears…
I remind my dear brother soul,
Of those days, when we were young,
and this soul had passed through
Many a wilder mysteries,
And now reflections bring me back a smile,
A smile on the naïve younger me,
And also a smile boasting promise of future,
Waiting to be unearthed
by nature’s sweet melody…
And I say, my brother wearing my clothe,
For you these fingers move,
And you make these untrue lips of mine smile…
Yes, my brother, these days are mine,
And yours to cherish,
as the future is never untold,
But true, as though always told,
Past is which is most untrue,
Unless there is life,
which ran through the mocking woods,
The pigeons and sparrows,
civilization’s own birds, showing
These limitless minds the mysteries of nature…
I verse not, here, in my mind,
With these thoughts to bring
a meaning to what I write, or
Not even to write what I mean,
Such is this mysticism...
Somewhere contentment flows,
Beyond these words,
Beyond those woods,
And beyond also the longing hoods,
Contentment flows,
Which talks me into this merriment…
Soothing, yet I hear the crickets,
And also those frogs,
Birds chirping, in many voices, but a single soul…
The flow of water is just elation for this soul,
Absolute bliss, this refuge, is hardly an confinement or,
Speaking in such terms, may feel as though,
this mind has wandered from the jailed four walls,
to Paradiso...
Flutes, drums and bamboo sticks,
Air, and wind, and everything that soars,
Travel, travel far beyond the imagining mind,
And this music of ancient human brings
that joy back and we find,
Yes, it is done, it is finished,
I am back, back to the confines of my mind
After that soulful retreat and this romantic find...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju