Desires Poem by Chhote Lal Khatri

As I am growing old
I am losing hold
On my desires bold
Like leaves falling in cold.

Couched in my rocking chair
Looking vacantly in the air
With an equanimity flair
Like a sanyasin counting his grey hair.

Everything looks leaving behind
The train runs fast but I am sitting resigned
My nerves, bones and muscles to rest inclined
Like a paper boat sagged in rain unkind.

I am fit for a sprint no longer
In a marathon I may be a runner
Let the whole world fly; I'll stay back in my bower
Like a bee stuck to a flower.

I can carry sword no more
Pen snug in my fingers knocks at your door
I can curse and bless in lore
With ferns and flowers galore.

I can count beads not colours beyond seven
I can decipher the silence of men
Not the cacophony of blind chicken
Limitlessness of the limited word is my den.

I can't catch up with you
New ways of love and life are not my due
But I have the key to the tilism for you
Of life after death, life beyond life in lieu.