The canvas remain uneven

By

Prof D.Patranabis


When I write, the pen seems to move just fine
The mind that helps does not appear to shine,
There is a discord, things do not turn out well
We aspire to reach heaven but end up in hell.

Wonderful things are around, I want to be a part of it
But I cannot mingle up with the whole, I become discrete
This makes the canvas uneven, the picture loses charm
It does not promise peace, instead, causes more harm.

I feel – the note I play does not rouse my soul
I remain an individual and not a part of the whole
The whole is Complete, One, Infinity, the Absolute
My failure can not make me a witness who is mute.

I cry foul, raise alarm, try to establish right
The horizons I try to paint pink move out of sight
I can not accept all, look around with a sheepish eye
With all efforts I made I could not change mine into ‘I’.