Ah acres of my ploughed thought-fields,
Its recall taking long, some lost
In memory O for long frost,
All labour lost, lost much-hoped yields.
Yet, what has been a long-held thought,
Contemplated in form and face,
And chewed and re-chewed for long, aught
Remain un-lost in time and space.
If to think is to be alive,
Let me my thoughts cultivate still—
Be they lofty, mundane or naïve—
If not else, but for mental thrill!
I doubt— a doubting Tom as I'm—
Man recoils from labour of mind;
So, let me be right among them
That in thoughts live, in thoughts abide.
He that seeds thoughts through depths of night,
And waits endless hours watering,
By dawn might see a beckon light
Which, brighter gets— noon approaching.
In hope I carry on to plough
Unknown acres, and not in vain,
To whose green wilderness I bow;
I know he that thinks also can.
And I hope still, what look mere weeds
Today, would yield bounties one day,
Soon to become much valued seeds;
Weeds are unknowns whose worth's still grey.
What if these acres at my shore
Defy— enabling no mapping,
I'm sure one day they'd come to fore,
And wonder, they might even sing.
And when thinking on weeds a while,
Thoughts as if lost in unknown file,
Now reaching last terminal mile,
They too would sure show light with smile:
Body may be of matter made,
Spirit of man rules stronger still,
Which, more than flesh comes to his aid,
O to shine with spiritual will.
The lost acres are to me dears,
So, let me not let someone build
A toll gate ‘pon my mental field,
But let thoughts pass free for long years.
In hope of yield at future date,
I plough these acres of my thoughts,
Hoping them stay no tiny tots,
Prepared I'm for long time to wait.
______________________________________________________
Indic thought might insist that the random mental thoughts, which they call noise, be quietened. This may be fine for the spiritually oriented, meditating minds. But this random harvest I think has its use. And these acres of thoughts are never lost as wasteland weeds, this poem feels.
______________________________________________________
Musings | 13.09.12 |
Topic: lost, land, thoughts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To be alive! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
You have an eye, Edward Louis, to find something of interest as if from lost acres of weeds. I thank you indeed.