Charity Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

She gives well when freely gives,
Feeling happy she has given,
Obliged that the gift was taken,
Feels happy too one that receives;
Charity's not to show the stature,
It's when giving is second nature.

Flowers blossom fragrance to spread,
It is flower's born-with nature,
Ego has no candidature,
They would till wilted and all dead;
It is flowers' born-with virtue,
They know as if not else to do.

A candle burns, light to all share,
It is candle's born-with nature,
Burn she will till no longer there,
Ego has she nor yet stature,
Born is it with this virtue,
It's as if it knows not else to do.

Clouds too give away all as rains,
It is the cloud's born-with nature,
They will till the last drop drains;
They check not receiver's stature,
Born are they with this virtue
And know not else to do.

Man lone when condescends to give,
In turn wants something to receive,
He feels the receiver's in chain,
In gratitude, so should remain,
He gives that he could one day gain,
His charity is vanity in vain.

The birds and beasts no efforts spare,
And give their best in pure instinct
When their newly born do they care,
But humans, species so distinct,
Hope, children would reciprocate,
Oh to await that thankless date.
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Reflections | 01.08.06 |