Disciples Poem by Tarun Sharma

think
of dark woods somewhere on equator
pupil sitting at the porches of huts
sweating, perspiring
but glittering eyes

roots, beets, tuber
and bulbs
dust laden fruits and
shrubs
placed on the earth

milky light
breaking the silence of the place
through small passages
if leaves allowed to enter
of big teaks and orchids

peace
on every face
one might wonder
to see how tire they are after collecting day’s food
but their face glowing like stars in dark woods

suddenly a figure approached
the disciple’s mob
equally peaceful face
and raised his arms in air
with full confidence in the eyes

and one should have seen
how the tired souls rise then
and lit the fire in the time
through the devoted moves
they made to their teacher

and drums
and flutes
and some continental instruments
they played
they sang

then comes food in earthen pots
of clay, of sand
they enjoyed the meal
like a decent team
on a lunch

the place in deep dark
seems to be the only alive part
until they went to sleep
same eyes full of energy
same face full of peace

the whole night
that figure stayed unslept
calm and straight
to the next morning
when disciples start again in search of food to explore the music, the omnipotent in their own passion