Vanity Spills...

On the terrace of my edifice, I sit in the nook,
Construing the still of the trees and birds in equipoise,
No sound humane, no noise unearthly;
I wonder what's in store 'cos this silence, deepens my sore.

I look up and at the far end I find,
The white cotton shield gliding like a dove,
Majestically drawing its layers to entwine,
Seeming like the power beyond is having a good knit.

Fluffy and cherubic, I can see it smile,
I imagine may be, but its worth every pound;
Thin white wool, as it is, sticks close by,
Thinking unity is might, but do I get a fright??

I come forth to find more dove,
But am I taken for a ride;
I see, my nest is turning dark like night;
And why do I hear, the perfidious screech of the owl?

Soaring like a hawk ,
Is the heavy curtain of solvent;
Aiming the pure cotton ball,
Playing merrily on strike..

Here, I see the wafers of wool-
riving beneath the rays,
I see no awe as they have no law,,
Heavy and ugly, each string treads along,
Chiming their bells in a villainous rhyme.

The little white mass is engulfed upon;
As they truely stand clueless of all,
It takes no time for the unending conceit,
To kill the purity and resurrect shrill vanity.

As the darkness opens its pouch,
The white disappears admist the vain,
Shreiks in glory, a glory over innocence;
Thunders out loud and sends a lightning bolt my way.

I cower in fright, my arms wrapped around,
I know what is coming down my way;
They dance and bound all over in mirth,
They masquerade and come down bay.

I feel the cold ,the thick driblets-
Sting my face, my hand, my brow,
Libertine drops of vanity spill down,
I drown in haze and seek a shore.....

Vanity spills and spares no realm,
Even the most beatified are ensnared;
Those exalted from the trammels of vanity,
Redeem me now on the path you have laid...


swathi krishna
31/07/2008