Give Me A Needle And No More Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

A story ‘tis of a noble tailor,
A great sage in the garment of lay soul,
In ocean that be life a skilled sailor
In search of a hallowed path as his goal.

A king once came to him homage to pay,
And gifted a pair of scissors of gold
That left the sage sober and somewhat cold,
In wisdom to decline, no more to say.
What may I give O great sage? Asked king,
Give me just a small needle for stitching.

Scissors cut things, diminish and divide,
Needles strive to bring them back together,
Bring broken hearts fallen apart to dither,
I wonder if scissors can cut false pride.
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- Reflections | 03.05.08 |