The Call Poem by Dhananjay Kumar

It sounds distant to many while to few near,
But, very few are they who hear It loud and clear.
It reverberates:
When leaves rustle and clouds rumble,
When innocent giggle and tyrants tumble.
When butterfly emerges from chrysalis and flowers bloom,
When giant oak withers and lights are blown out by gloom.
It's The Call:
Whither wandering my dear child,
Amid pleasures fleeting and wild?
Hold the reigns and knock for a while,
Grace will descend and purge thee of guile.
Get not swept away by senses running wild,
And, restrain thy mind from acting like a petulant child.
Allow not thy intellect to merely conform to the drill,
Instead, make thy whole being subservient to My Will.
And, above all:
Seeking refuge in Me give up power and pelf,
Steadfast, keep striving to be thy own true self.