The Meaning Poem by santhkumar prabhu

He lay on the bed,
His face at an awkward angle
And his body frail, unmoving
And barely able to breath.

Nurses came and went
Speaking of medicines to be given,
Things to be and not to be done
And stratagems being adopted.

It seemed, doctors had said
That age was advanced
And that risks were high.

He was a man who, barely a decade earlier,
Was quick in decision and quick in action;
He groomed his daughters for good professions
And did him-self well, for his background of birth.

A man who had worked hard;
A man who had walked it alone;
Lay immobile on the bed
Able to breathe only uneasy breaths.

His daughters were worried
And I was worried, too,
Being his cousin and having known him well.

'What is the meaning of this,
This endless cycle of birth and decay? ',
Asked I of his eldest daughter,
'Why does God allow this, if He is there? '

'You know, brother, ', said she,
'Soul is immortal and it decays not;
As we change apparel every day,
So does soul change bodies at times.'

'Is this an answer? Is this answer a solace
When you writhe in pain and discomfort
Or lose your parents, sons and daughters?
Is this theory proven? ', questioned I in gentle tones.
'But it's just as I said.', prsisted she,
Leaving me unconvinced yet.

Somewhere, some lonely dark or moonlit night,
In the cool comfort of damp soil,
Unseen does a seed sprout;
Tender buds show themselves up,
Swaying in the winds that pass,
And blossom in to crimson leaves so tender
That are dyed in green overnight
To cook their food in the light of Sun;
The leaves then thicken in deep green,
Showing off fresh buds and leaves;
The tiny plant thus grows to be a giant tree,
Withers slowly and then dies
Ending as a huge mass of lifeless wood.

Sub-atomics, working in a complex manner,
Cause a tiny heart to beat
Till the life around it grows
In to handsomeness or beauty,
Reproduces it-self, celebrates awhile,
Wanes and then dies
Slowly or swiftly and mostly in pain.

Oh! what is the meaning of this endless cycle?











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