The Trustee Poem by Subrata Ray

The Trustee.


I have an old court to cut,
To run the go to be smart,
And I may alter
With the opinion of the common,
Though never I am summoned.


The father smiles,
Seeing my egoistic beguiles,
And enjoys my foolish brags,
Living in His light, -stepping in the dark.


The Father smiles,
In my multiplications of fence,
And oblivious of the trance,
My prerogative as His son.


His apostles arethe pillar of beacon-light,
As they all bear the Father within,
And the truth we wish to know reveals in their human-shrine.


My inert intellect seeks reasons,
And I build within me prisons after prisons,
I forget, I have my Father,
The coat I keep to follow his order.