Synopsis

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Synopsis

Poem

Am but a form sprouted on the human tree,
An outgrowth on earthly soil of deep roots,
Labouring long through the roads evolutionary
Where being’s cycles hardly the curve completes.

Am a leaf, in me is a green dream of the tree,
A cup to drink sunshine, a tongue to lap the rain.
In my dreams I am every leaf and their revelry,
By utmost askesis the treehood I too can attain.

In hues varied I speak to changing season,
My body prepares vestiture for coming brood,
My mind remembers lores of men forgotten,
With whom I had no kinship or brotherhood.

In my breast a Cassandra still ominously wails,
In my ears Arjuna still his counsel does hear,
In my breath I feel Abhimanyu’s piteous travails,
My arms yet firm with Achilles’ sturdy spear.

By Ganges I have mused upon destiny of star,
By thought have knocked on doors of heaven,
I have sorrowed at bloody carnage of The War,
Been pacified by the brows of Sages Seven.

I am now one, yet also the many,
How turned I this, is a synopsis of His mystery.