He, a seeker after Truth, set out
on an audacious journey
to see his old master
With a handful of blooms
he paused before the open door.
From deep meditation
the squatted figure, looked up.
In a trance, he saw the silhouette of a man.
On gazing intent, emerged distinct
his former disciple, left long ago
Seeing his hands laden with flowers,
the master smiled a coy smile.
In close surveillance, the penetrating eyes
gauged him through and through.
The master’s pursed lips opened ajar.
From him, arose a single word-
Gentle but firm was its timbre.
He dropped the flowers, one by one.
In sterner voice, the master said,
All at once, he let the remaining blooms
go off his clasp
and down they fell around his feet.
Folding empty hands, he stood,
waiting for the master’s behest
After an eerie silence,
once more came the hefty command-
Stupefied, the disciple queried-
‘’ What more should I drop? “
Master's eyes emitted sparks!
‘’ Not the flowers, but your ego”-
Instant was his reply.
A spear stuck deep into his self.
As by a whirl wind, his body tottered.
He felt a deep twirl inside.
Unfastening the hinges
of the imperious shutters,
a boulder rolled down,
dropping to the ground with a thud.
Back home, the disciple walked,
the cloggy fog clearing from his head
and feeling weightless as a feather!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
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