And when the golden sun was setting...

When the golden sun was setting…

amongst the countless rivers flowing

from the purity of thy bosom

there emerged a beautiful rose

the one that beholds, bewitches

but can prick without a spell

To be swept away, thorn and all

down deep valleys, trembling past

the currents crashing, nature’s fury

the rocks striking, nature’s jury?

alas! neither current nor rock

could break her spirit, as she glides by

Downstream she floats, now placid

across little hammocks, little pebbles

a bunch of kids are struck in awe

amidst the enchanting spell

she casts upon her beholders

Lazily she calms down, her strife was of yore

amidst the old hamlet’s tranquil pond

the water is turbid and quiet now

underneath it hid creatures, big and small

does each have a story

of its downstream journey?

Then arose a moon, which lit up the sky

captured by the pond as a billion stars shone by

she glances at her mirror, her resting place

and now it’s her turn to be enthralled

by nature’s tricks and plays!

For there lay on the surface,

an image so heavenly

they may call it a lotus,

a flower with a thousand petals

to be serenaded amongst the murk

to be worshipped with the gods

so, doth the name alter thy strife?

She closes off her petals and sinks for the night

to be awake, to rise and to shine

to welcome at the break of dawn

the golden sun that arises yet again.

to be called a lotus, o! so pure, so divine!