Beneath the endless expanse of open sky,
Where the sun’s fierce intensity does lie,
The Earth, in quiet rotation, humbly turns,
And the Moon’s deep craters and valleys yearn.
Where sea waves in their majesty meet rivers wide,
Love blossoms at this confluence, side by side.
But a torn bond, oh, it echoes with pain,
Like falling leaves in the chill of early winter’s reign.
Venturing forth in the quest for renewal and life,
Scribing tales atop mountains, far from strife.
Life’s joy dances in the heart, fairy tales spin in the mind,
Yet many thoughts reach not the tongue, remaining behind.
The speed of life is the openness of the soul,
As mud is flung in protest at the television’s dull toll.
The game played is the very game of existence,
To live fully, is to play with persistent persistence.
To dance with life is to play, to embrace each given day,
Knowing all play ends, even amidst the fray.
Thus life begins, thus it will close,
Leaving behind memories and a Mahendra Dutta umbrella’s repose.
In the story of life written, what truly remains,
Is not the sorrow of loss, nor the remnants of pains,
But the essence of joy, the laughter, the love’s umbrella,
That shelters us all, from the young to the elder fella.
This is the tale, the rhythm, the life’s sacred song,
A journey of heartbeats, where we all belong.
Through the dance of the seasons, the whispers of time,
Life is the poem, the rhythm, the rhyme.