Drifting Sands Poem by Atul Rajesh Sharma

Amid the drifting sands of the desert,
I hear the music of an airy life:
The plaintive humming of a thousand bees,
Who—choked and swollen with their orange sweet—
Clap and assert to their life's merry toils.
The sound let goes a ripple through the sands—
Sublime and nimble like an airy wave
Of thought that ripples out across my mind.
Benign, breathtaking, the sand-dunes betray
The true aspect of the dreariness they've got.
They fill my life like a mirror of hope,
A door to charity, to dismay's end,
A shadow of the purity of God;
The colors—green, brown, yellow—merge within,
Forming a pool of wishes forsaken.
The sand-waves leap within a sea of strife
And bright anticipations of the heart:
Of roses, of the gardens of lost love,
Of long lost souls that wander with the tides,
Of an infinite tone of simple life.
And still there is this music, like a clap;
Like butterflies flapping their mirthful wings;
Like stammers of a new-born, shuddering chick;
Like the serene, fluttering autumn leaves;
Like the swift beating of the heart of fire.