Ode To Living Water Poem by MBJ Pancras

A child of Nature thou art! Born of Living Water!
So translucent in thy deeds art thou! Watery art thy words,
Prosperity dwells in thy innocence, sweet is thy smile,
Fragrant is thy presence, Nature's gift is thy birth.
Thou walk beside the shores of the eternal ocean,
And the children of the sea dance in thy moving gestures.
Fish of the waters frolic ‘bove the current at thy sight,
Each of the species living around share their dreams with thine,
Thy course of life is pleasant and flowery shared with all.

Behold! Thou are drenched with nectar so honeyed,
Thou art dwelling in the core of blossoms, full of dreams.
Thy simplicity is a star of miracle; Thou art raised, admirable!
Princely is thy act of benevolence, compassionate to the needy!
Thou art ‘Amrita' of bliss raised of the soil of sweat,
Smile born of thy heart is the answer to the souls who walk with thee.
Time can't measure thy smile; but thy smile can measure Time,
Thou mayest seem a crownless queen; yet thou art a soul of potentials.
Thou makest species under firmament quickened and relished.

Thou hast borne the name of the Ganges - - perennial and refreshing!
Blissfully art thou made ringing into everyone's heart, lively!
Thy name is tender; thou art caring; thy words are pleasant!
Sweet is thy name when pronounced; sweeter art thou when spoken;
Sweetest art thou when befriended with thee! A delightful soul!
Shower art thou drenching the crying souls with thy empathy!
Thou art the living water; all barren lands turn fertile, when flowing,
Thy lullaby sootheth the disheartened hearts laden with bleak reality.
Behold! Thou knowest ‘Water is the elixir of life' and thou art it.

Thou hast charm or sting; yet thou mayest turn sting to charm,
Spell-bound is every one if thou flashest the rays from thy magical eyes,
Thou art the fount of ideas that kindle the sluggish intellect,
Thou bringest shades to weary travellers and leadest them unto oasis,
Tireless are thy sweats; unstinting are thy promises; diligent is thy labour,
Behold! All the stars turn unto thee, and thou become a guiding star.
Thy disposition reacheth my heart, and my poetry paints thee as an ode,
And thou shall know poetry is an art inscribed in immortal plinth,
Thou shalt be read by generations till art walketh on its way.