From His Hospice Poem by Sudam Panigrahi

We are but His creations,
Simple human beings,
Pushed out to the world,
Soft and crying.

Surrounding nurtures,
As we twaddle and babble.
Some grow faster,
Yet some tardier.
Some darling of teachers,
Yet some not so brighter.

Grown in, become so and so,
Bigger by position, and power.
Some love their moustaches,
As if they’d be black for ever.


Some are humble, living with nature,
Praising the invisible strands,
Smiling and loving with limited wants.

Let your power, not become a weapon
To crush smile and peace.
As we’re but from His divine hospice.