October 31 - 1991. Poem by Ravi Panamanna

(Everybody has to face the following moments one day or the other in his life. Without positivism about future, nobody can practically get over those emotional strides. The following poem illustrates this aspect. The poem is my dedication on the eve of the retirement of my father-in-law. He is a person having enough poesy in his heart and rich values about life. As a Divotional Poet he was regular contributor to the magazine 'Bhakthapriya' (Published by Guruvayur Temple Devaswom) . Date of composition 28/10/1991)

The clock strikes five
And my sighs are gathering within me!
I close my endless files
And look at the distant twilight skies.

With an immaculate air
I descend my flights.
I take a last whimsical look
And behold all lost moments.

In serene, tranquil thoughts,
I close my pen, toss in silence.
‘Morrows won’t see me here,
I accept the wheel of life.

My long innings is getting over,
I am now backing to the pavilion.
This is my final appearance
And I hear a standing ovation behind.

Tea cups talk in silence,
My heart speaks aloud.
Lips follow a routine note
And the farewell scene draws the curtains.

Tear filled, I call it a day-
Overwhelmed, I have nothing to say.
I reflect on the endless avenues-
A fleeting experience- I see countless faces.

At me they all pour their heart,
Within me they all eventually dissolve.
An echo remains as an undertone,
The ripples gently shake my bones.

I am forever leaving this inn,
Here I had spent my countless years.
This was my bread and butter,
My sweat and life’s portal.

Down the steps and into the street,
I merge with the din of the world.
Leaving the familiar way-side scenes
I am into my own dreams.

The sun has now gone down,
He will present me more inspiring dawns.
My heart is not sinking-
The stars are now twinkling,

I am off the town and its air,
The country road invites me so fair!
The moon whispers an endless poem
And follows me as a listening companion.

I reflect upon those inns
Where I had stayed during my sojourn.
They are now forever gone,
They are now only in my dreams.

I feel not weary
As if walking along the Sahara Desert.
Yes- I was to leave the inn this day,
Young tickets are waiting in the queue.

When old houses collapse,
New designs surmount them.
Our world is a big grave-yard
Where demolition and construction continually take place.

With the golden poems of life,
I now walk unto the distant shores.
My pen is safe in the pocket,
My springs are perennial beyond the thicket.

This is enough for me,
My days are surely warm.
The country road rolls under my feet
And I hear a distant temple greet.

With temple festivals around,
With spiritual books on hand,
With my pen continually flowing,
My winds are quite safe.

That is my next inn,
Those are my pleasant meads.
With a poem in my heart
I am sure I won’t perish.
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