Some early mornings, on awakening,
I wonder what and where I am.
I see my outstretched hand, the dew
Faintly dampens invisibly.
I grope to hold on to a scene,
The idea of Reality, outside my reach.
I join the great consensus of our tribe:
There is a world and we here in Life.
The optic nerve pervades the waking mist,
We see the real world, but also doubt
If it is illusion or a vivid dream,
A partly plausible rumour we have heard.
Reason can falter. Are we deluded then?
Are we protagonists in a broken dream,
A fragmentary trance beyond our ken?
Who is the Sleeper? What is the end?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Moment is invisible but the moment of morning gives freshness. We feel light of mercy of God. Illusion is vivid and this attracts towards matters. But Godly wisdom motivates for eternity and awakening. Amazing poem is shared here..10
Dear compatriot and Poet, I am truly pleased that you, a valued contributor to PH, found time to read my verse so soon after it was posted and troubled to comment generously. Our cultures in India are known to have a reflective mind, receptive to mystic and metaphysical musing. It is a consolation to appeal to like-minded readers. Best wishes, AM