A Faquir Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Pilot, nor navigator,
Rickety old be the boat,
The wind's fair nor in favour,
The journey's still set afloat.
Rare be the joys O faquir's,
Never is his garden grey,
Gain or loss, he's on the way,
Fancies, fantasies nor fears;
Flowers nor are offered gift,
In strange ways he seeks Supreme,
Prayers nor pleas— life to lift,
He knows, life's dream in a dream.
To a boat riddled with pores,
What use sails, what use are oars?
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Sonnets | 05.10.16 |