Stray Thoughts On A Sunny Morning Poem by Padma Devkota

The human race, a wise Chinese once said,
should learn to hold three clear mirrors:
the mirror of brass in which is inlaid
the physical world of errors,
the mirror of people where your image
shines or fades beyond your control,
and the mirror of history, quick time's rage,
which will just forget or extol.

But O! What are mirrors to eyes of stone
from which the divine spark has fled?
What are mirrors to flesh, blood and bone
though it be with the world inlaid?
Fame is the evil charm of history
in a mediocrity-centric world
where certainty defies all the mystery
and knowledge has too many folds.

I love the dab of colour on the leaf,
I love the autumn leaves of flesh,
I love the colours of human belief—
All these I love, all these I bless.
Some great being beneath the ground or high
in the turrets of the deep sky
receives my gratitude each day for I
welcome him and bid him good bye.