Bazi alis Subrata Ray
The Mysterious Seed.
You cry knowing not why,
You cry perhaps for sad satiety,
In the beguiled market of daily lore,
You cry to sit and rest on some One's door.
You cry to have a seed to sow,
In your allotted land to culture,
No matter of rooted parasites and insects,
You wish to farm and erect the tree.
Unasked, the seed is given to you,
And you are impressed to take care,
By toil, fence, and water,
With the faith on command of your shire.
The seed germinates, grows and becomes,
With the beauty of foliage, flower and fruit,
You laugh away the tears of drudgery,
You are linked with your Father's root.
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