Life Is A Strange Riddle Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Thou art no death, life in a renewed search
Of next innings to persist once again,
Bird priming wings, in search of a new perch,
Life's melody singing the old refrain!

A lost bird in search of his twin for long—
A bird of the same flock, preening its feather,
All set for a voyage new things to weather,
O why this vainest search? What has gone wrong?

A bubble of sea water nigh restless,
Life struggles, longs its true lineage to trace,
To merge unto her infinite sameness,
Die bubble's life, other drops to embrace.

To most us still life is a strange riddle,
Amid two unknowns, mysterious middle!
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Indic scriptures are filled with philosophies on life and death. Death is just a shadow, for, light is not far. Yet, it is a grave shadow all the same, and the pun is intended. It enables the soul a new vehicle to move on with new life; a new garment, for, the old is worn out. It's like a setting sun, sure to rise again. The metaphors are endless. We still grieve for life no less. It's not easy to transcend Maya.
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Sonnets | 04.01.08 |