Harsha's Eternal Spring

[Guest guest]

Hello everyone. Here is my Spring of 1999 poem.

 

Harsha's Eternal Spring

 

Once there was this mystery

set in the dense fog of life

nothing appeared clearly

and thorn bushes on all sides

Being tired I stopped along the road

and lay down to rest my back a while

a pure spring gushed forth suddenly

wet the ground and made me smile

Too many body aches to move

how with miseries we are wed

as hopes played their endless melodies

a welcome stillness led

once more to a forgotten place

and water dripped on my head

for naked lovers with no rent to give

earth serves as the final bed

and peaceful sleep comes easily

to a tired, worn out heart

That day upon awakening

even the air was wet

but no ceilings now

to keep out the light

The building puddle

might have drowned me still

but I had had my fill

of sights and wonders

or so I thought when

by chance our eyes met

A perfect face of such radiance

who can resist this innocence

and having given up everything

it made no sense at all

to hold back just my heart

The pull, this magic pull,

on my decaying orbit,

takes away the choice

of ever being untrue

What voice can speak now

and say I loved

and lost myself in You

Then Saw that You were Me

Silence stole us from ourselves

For all Eternity.

 

All rights reserved and all that by Harsha (Dr. Harsh K. Luthar) April 1999

[Guest guest]

 

Harsha (Dr. Harsh K. Luthar) )"

>Harsha's Eternal Spring

 

 

Dear Harsha, what sweet and lovely words to describe the heart love of the

Divine. We have autumn here, however the love is as great also in the balmy

days, sunny skies and frosty mornings, and the burnt colours of the autumn

leaves. The words I read on this list make my heart sing.

 

Now that the time of summer has passed and the trees ever make their way

into the dormancy of winter, in the interlude of that which is called autumn

lies the promise also of the new in the regeneration of that which has been,

passed away, and comes into being anew in the magic of the spring.

 

The love which is of the utmost in the heart of me is that which relates to

the words, the sounds, the thoughts of India, of another time long lost but

restored in the cells of memory for ever. This is the love which brings

tears to the eyes of me, and the deepest longing to be reunited once again.

Christel.