Procession Poem by prabhakar bhatlekar

A fun.
Changing the self in to
thrilling joyous new one.
Days hold exultant tides,
forming a sea of bliss.
- and then comes a night.
Ephemeral vision of
a shadowy image repeatedly
flash on screen of dark.
A long procession of
dancing flames
moving slowly with
faint chorus of past
generations dissolve
in the image, now seen
now not...
and so captivating!
A patch of hundred years
can't fathom it!
A long procession is on.
Now seen...now not.






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