1
The mind is a chameleon,
Who takes its colour from the ambiance,
To fool whose eyes, O Lord, but Thine,
That prey-est well on Thy inheritance?
2
Dry sand is this river-bed,
Abandoned by the wayward waters,
Condemned to wait in bleaching hope
With emblematic sprouts of grass
And memories of flood.
A pithy poem on the mind acting like a chameleon that continues to prey on God's inheritance! What else can we the insignificant do other than relying on His abundance! Somehow, we have to recourse to some survival mechanism! The second one on nostalgia of the dry land is simply beautiful!
good poem, thanks, I like it Please read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am, as always, grateful for a comment on my trifles cast abroad. I am encouraged by your considered reading of two old 'prayers', brevities I shared on PH last year. We can reflect on life and its significance for each of us as we grow older, not always wiser, but at least, more capable of mutual empathy. Thanks for your perceptive perusal. AM