_ Quicksands Poem by Sathya Narayana

It's all about tickles on skin and the rush of blood;
the sensuous tunes played by nerves
and profuse flushing glands!
Bodies, bodies and bodies!
The unseen beacon keeps emitting it's brilliance...
by him denied of its existence
and thus to him unseen forever.
Yet, failed bodies don't hesitate to curse
the delinquency of the so denied.
Naysayers just need mouths...big mouths...
The redolent lone lotus bud
growing in murky interiors
remains forever waiting to blossom,
for the sprays of wisdom-Sun rays.

They keep crawling and falling
on the slimy edges of quicksands.
It's not easy walking out
and reach the green meadows
beyond the shadows of doubt and sophistry!

I can pity him, you can sympathize
and he can show mercy!
But he's beyond our stretched out arms,
his hands deep inside, flapping the mud
and his lips sipping the stinky mire.

Oh now behold he's shouting aloud
and laughing insane
'This's sweet, this's nectar, this's ambrosia! '