Childhood Delight Poem by Prabir Gayen

- childhood delight -

where art those dreams, divine, green and virgin call of nature, the infant delight?
where art those appetite for unknown bliss, the sensation deep?
Tormenting the breast of cloud for fetching new light? Where ah where art they?
where is that old self, the desire to touch, and to achieve the holiest height?

The soft, sweet gratefulness with beauteous form, the calm endeavour and warmth of life?
where art those muse of self and smiling face of inner sky: vast unknown and mysterious?
my lord! where art that great urge desirous mind that in woeful and inaudible incantation pronounced thy name with joy of life?
where art those shadows of pure form, the mystic fog and crying for divine grace?
fled is that muse in traceless path, the infancy of wild provocation and sublime the deep.
The eyes once full of love and laden with wonderment to penetrate the sheath, lovingly clad by soft tender hand art now gone.
The clarion call to openness, to unfold the unknown, the mystic rose is no more.
A self centric power, inward remittance and bodyless tension, pure, fundamental, the juice of life , Where?
where thou art to mock the love baffled many a time?
The crystal light of blissful inner joy to purify the emotion mixed and hybrid?
where art those thoughts tender, spry and spiritual- oblivious of painted self love?

Thou art gone for ever, shedding the urge of the spell that brought the previous bijou - the peak of life.
what art that logos to fall in love again and and rise again in praise of the setting sun?
The waves art strange, and frozen is the love.
where art those smells that art mingled with muddy intoxication and drunk with the fume of seasonal blooms?
The shooting twilight, wild imitation art gone with the zeal of life.
A portion of it is shadow now as if the skeleton of a incorporeal being.

past glory is passed with hazy outlook of mind - tired, fretful, sordid and adamant to way clear.
The deep fog like underground darkness clustered the sheath unable to die yet to born.

Life is gone, the deathlessness is punishment, sin profound fruitless to pin forward.
The time full of nights move with enigma through every pair of eyes.
The foster child am i of lovelessness and of no value, poster of forgotten dream.

Still thou art my dear one, upon whose benevolence do i behold the future,
the pure image of timeless being, revive, retrieve that once nurtures our innocent love.

I would be sitting by the side of my soul, forlorn piping the sweet song of our fanciful days, the majestic form, and the pure form thy innocence.
We will bring for both of us the new sun,
In those soft hands of our progeny we shall bestow our message last - that all is one and one is all, instant is eternity,
an old sea with a frog and a sound of splash.