Out Of Germ Line Poem by Neran Sati

I

Cold sunny morning, to this late of brightest autumns..
Our dwellings heated up, and it souls dreaming along
As ever, caught in by new illusions - big and small.
And it Mind, trying persistently - reality to overcome
Its ruling over matter. Our life - emerging from this
Everlasting battle, inspired by the winds of that -
Everlasting hope - for this world - it improvement, or
The pure survival? Will it ever stop - this battle, that
Hope, or a deceit - would it ever see - the Defeat?


II

Pondering over it pale photographs - of the forebears -
While young.. it white peel only piercing through the
Darkness.. Yet, their Souls - still emitting program to
The present - to this soul, to my mind! And, their bodies
Still speaking through mine, transmitting o'er generations:
Their soul - my soul, their dust - embracing mine! But
Wait a moment, please! Why don't let their souls reach
The poems mine? Sqeezing the juice for some cosy
Clement drink! Out this cold autumn peel - it nobility!