In The Orchestra Called World Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Wondrous this world as created,
A rare piece of work not ere made,
Chaos on face hiding its harmony,
Waves on surface, at peace deep sea,
Ah a pre-writ orchestral symphony,
A rhapsody set in sweet melody.

Where everyone plays all so fair—
Seated in a pre assigned chair,
Guides the sole master conductor,
Earth, water, fire and air,
Sun and moon, stars are there,
Everyone as own instructor!

Every bee, each tree, beast and bird,
All as if by strange tunes be-stirred,
Each one tries tuned in to remain,
Not one sounds weird, none in vain,
To harmonies set all apply,
On whims, nor fancy's wings they fly.

A section still nigh out of tune,
In winter playing tunes of June,
Oh harming universal harmony,
Wayward odd waves in a calm sea;
And your guess is as good as mine:
Earthlings off the harmonic line!
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Musings | 07.02.16 |