Prod, God And All Poem by Sathya Narayana

PROD, GOD AND ALL
Standing before me, the mountain;
tall, black, strong and impregnable;
challenging my nerve and gumption;
ready to laugh if I fail and dribble.
But I must cross it, that's my will,
my life; need dire and my future.
Between being sceptic and hopeful
at the task uphill, I fritter.
The lull is painful and I stare
at all directions for some aid;
not sure, who's there really to care.
I prayed the God and looked for some sign, odd.
Someone's there at the altitude;
real or my pipe dream's contour
knew not! With a nod he gave me a prod
to scale the hill with new vigour.
I sweat and pant in my clamber;
of and on looking at that man;
waving my hands with an ardour
that I'm going to reach him soon.
Tiresome; yet faith as my strength
I trog and trek to reach the apex.
But to my surprise I saw no one
to share my win; accept my thanks.
It's now just silence and blankness.
I bask there in the sky blues and
caressing soothing winds. It's bliss;
a winner's euphoric proud stand.
I started looking up and down.
Found a man at the foot of the hills;
waved him with a smile to come on.
Now I am his prod, God and all.