The Time Is Now - Poem by Aniruddha Pathak
Imagine on a lone, remote island,
Far, far, amid wilderness and nowhere,
A place no one ever set foot ere,
And there a ship-wracked man should land,
Washed ashore by the stormy tidal waves,
Injured, unconscious for unknown long;
Nature that sings along an endless song,
If it chooses to assail, also saves.
Oh, where am I? What time is it?
How long, my God! What day is it?
Ah time! One thing man may never beat,
From time and space there’s escape, nor retreat.
Yet, lone islands have little use for time,
Time that has future, nor has past,
Nor has fair reason nor yet rhyme,
Days, nights resigned to live as cast.
And time, meaninglessness invented,
By, who else, but man ruled by mind,
Whose, true self, long buried half-dead,
Oft plays a feeblest of tune from behind.
Well, oaks and eagles were bemused
By the question on time that he did pose,
Time as a tool this land ne’er used,
The question, well, never arose.
But were they to respond somehow,
Land that lived moment to moment,
Present time that lone was present,
Would’ve said: what else, the time is now!
- Musings | 04.04.14 |
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