Six O'clock Poem by Mohabeer Beeharry

Six O'clock

Six o'clock,
All is serene and profound;
The last goat is back into the fold.
The sea has come to lounge on to the warm shore.
Like the white dove,
A fantastic sight of thorough peace surrounds the belts of woodland.

Rocks and trees
Water and breeze
Bushes, hills and mountains, all adrift,
drifting, drifting into the arms of a slumbrous dream world.
It was like a picture of darkening hues
A warring riot of colours

The temple vesper's have sounded,
A silver clarion of small bells.
What a beautiful world!

I dearly yearn to reach out to this divine peacefulness.
But I cannot, I fall half way.
My heart throbs, nervous, I cry.
My mind revolts, wild and uneasy.
My eyes prick and burn.

I sit on the shore, all alone,
I cry
full of fears, tears
and uncertainties.
I ask myself why is it all happening?

There is no lack of wealth in nature's purse
I tell myself,
So much to be enjoyed freely and be happy about.
And yet in my heart, I am not at peace.
The evening pines,

This is a strange world,
Here the harvesters are not always the growers.
flower pots spawn killer bullets,
And power has become an opiating addiction
another name for greed, lust
hypocrisy and heartless corruption.

The weight is getting too much,
The world is sagging
And tilting...
Thousands are falling off the edges,
Everyday! Every minute!

Stop a moment,
Shed no more tears.
Save some for the future,
If there is going to be a future!

One day the water will be soiled,
The flowers will go,
The sun will be harsher
The hills, mountains and woodlands
Will dry and die standing.
There will be no you
Nor me.

No vanity
No holy places painted with gold
and fabricated liturgies.
No manipulated faith.
Power will not buy a special place
in the endless firmament of Gods grace.

There will be silence,
Clean unfinishable silence!
Primordial love
And virgin belts of peace.

My prayer is that I may on my knees,
On bare ground then say to the Lord
Thank you
You have shown me the real way
to that real and unalloyed peacefulness
Which my heart craves for

Cowboy Ron Williams 13 July 2020

A fascinating poem. I enjoyed reading it.

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