The Graveyard Of Senses Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

The graveyard of senses

A skull bowl for bare needs— was all he1 had—
All he needed, joy needs no more to add.

And when he saw a man drinking— cupped hands,
Joyous, he jettisoned the cranium bowl:
My mind now feel of water understands—
The cool feel of liquid so natural—
And my joy reaches peak never felt ere,
I drink no more; I cherish the Nature.

Drinking O from a bowl, beggarly size,
What ignorant fool was I all these years!
Man's senses dull have gone, chilling his cheers,
Tongue tastes the food, of relish none so wise,
Music plays on, mind not in tune with ears,
Roses get robbed of beauty in vague eyes.

And human mind at worse—gross to grotesque,
Things made mundane from what ere was so rare,
Like none else blooms each bud beauty-bedecked,
Freshly chiselled anew without a peer
In all earth—has never been, nor shall be,
And yet, it dies to be whatso any.

People pass thru life untouched by its bliss,
Man has a graveyard made of his senses,
The purest joy of seeing beauty rare
No more exists in world, or no one knows.
And hungry mind still wants ever the more,
His wonderment wears thin the greed as grows.

From a fakir with naught else than skull bowl,
Look, man has turned into a greedy owl.
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1. Greek thinker Diogenes gave up everything to live like a mendicant, free from any possessions. He just had a skull bowl.
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Musings | 02.04.12 |
Topic: joy, bliss, greed