Work Hand In Hand Poem by Prabir Gayen

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‎Work Hand in Hand
‎
‎Prabir Kumar Gayen
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‎Life is a battlefield,
‎you stand within it
‎wounded,
‎and yet luminous.
‎You are the struck one,
‎you are the hidden divine.
‎
‎Work hand in hand
‎that the veiled dawn may arrive,
‎not as decree,
‎but as music,
‎as poetry,
‎as the slow breathing of a novel
‎written by many souls.
‎
‎Work hand in hand
‎to awaken the great drama
‎where form is shaped
‎through form itself,
‎where Shakespeare finds his voice
‎within your silence,
‎where Milton bends rhythm
‎until Rabindranath answers
‎with a flame of song.
‎
‎Work hand in hand
‎that the divine may fall
‎as petals,
‎as unnamed grace.
‎Waves of wishing will rise,
‎un-steadying the heart,
‎tilting the inner compass,
‎yet desire is not exile;
‎desire is blessing
‎when its buds are placed
‎upon the altar
‎of the Eternal Temple.
‎
‎Awake.
‎Arise.
‎Do not halt
‎until every human breath
‎is counted.
‎One flower abandoned
‎cannot shape a garland.
‎Do not raise your hand
‎against your brother,
‎your sister,
‎they are your shield.
‎Do not turn upon your kin.
‎
‎Do not fracture yourselves.
‎For life will then harden
‎into a widening desert,
‎and annihilation
‎will wear the mask of destiny.
‎The blood of brothers and sisters
‎will flow
‎only to remind you
‎of a forgotten radiance.
‎
‎Awake.
‎Love your own lineage.
‎Lay down the smallness of mind
‎to enter
‎the shared consciousness
‎that listens beyond ego.
‎
‎O ancient bloodline
‎of Krishna,
‎of Buddha,
‎of Mahavir,
‎O primordial song
‎of Ashtavakra,
‎of Pythagoras,
‎of Heraclitus,
‎Muse of the Aionian hills,
‎saga of unperishing beauty,
‎sons and daughters
‎of Zen and Judaism,
‎bearers of epic breath
‎and divine message,
‎Unite
‎for a single cause:
‎to endure,
‎and to shape the eternal joy
‎of living
‎in peace
‎without surrendering truth.
‎
‎A dark age advances silently
‎along the corridor of unawareness,
‎where two hands
‎of the same body
‎strike one another
‎and call it fate.
‎
‎Stop.
‎Do not war
‎with your own mind,
‎your own flesh,
‎you are notes
‎of a single, undying tune.
‎
‎Be One,
‎without second thought,
‎recognizing each being
‎as essential breath.
‎
‎Feel the union.
‎Work together
‎to face the darkness
‎where literature is named sin,
‎where music is declared betrayal,
‎where goddesses are condemned
‎as shadows.
‎
‎Stand as one voice
‎with all your brothers and sisters
‎and sing
‎the language that precedes language.
‎
‎In the Garden of Eden
‎only one flower is violent,
‎one rot is enough
‎to turn soil into dust.
‎
‎Unite,
‎and that decay will heal,
‎or be removed
‎so that humanity may pass.
‎From ancient Greece to Bethlehem,
‎from England's old breath to India's soul,
‎the same song arose
‎in different tongues
‎to shelter humankind.
‎
‎Come closer.
‎Enter union.
‎That union itself
‎is the highest resistance,
‎the most sacred fight.
‎
‎@Prabir Gayen
‎08/01/2026/12: 35 PM.
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