Kapila Ramkumar కవిత

Monolith At the foot of a northern pylon of the Harbour Bridge I have kept my vigil since the mighty span was built. I come early in the day from worn-out corners of the area and sit when the sun is out until the waning afternoon, thence to another role, another manifestation of duty. On my way I pass a cavern echoing with traffic noise. When the sun is setting it blazes up like a testing tunnel of the cosmic fire at the beginning and ending of universes. It reminds me we are not that far in time from a kalpa’s ending. More than four thousand million years in the lives of the starry and the planetary entities who influence us and are never truly seen. At the pylon’s base I meet with seeming fools and sages, more of the former, alas, but it was ever the same at the other Thebes. The great towering stone columns could fittingly house the troglodytic priests and harbour an inward turning flame in bifurcated flowering for the known and unknown god and my own dilapidated dispensation. The only way the scene differs now is in the lack of overt piety, the thinning out of conscious pilgrims passing by me here upon the seasonally withered grass. Bruce Beaver

by Kapila Ramkumar



from kavi sangamam*కవి సంగమం*(Poetry ) http://ift.tt/1kZYxkF

Posted by Katta