Originating from the peaks,
Of mountains steep and high,
Gurgling and dancing and singing,
A beautiful river flows by.
It runs through plains and plateaus,
And unwinds its way out,
Of deep and green valleys,
Twisting and turning about.
It stumbles over little pebbles,
Stones and rocks and boulders,
Yet fighting its way through,
It emerges out victorious!
Pure as fire, holy as a prayer,
A crystal, clear and bright,
Shining like gold in the sun,
And like silver in moonlight!
It is a never ending saga ,
That only goes on forever.
Living in the present ,
unmindful of the past or the future.
Thus ultimately it merges,
With the vast and deep blue sea,
A confluence of determined rivers,
A heaven, it happens to be!
There are other rivers that have,
Stopped having come a little way,
Ending up as small pools of water,
Never reaching the bay.
Their existence futile and cursed,
No parched soul they quench,
Just stagnant,muddy and lifeless,
A pool of stink and stench!
Ah! To be that river!
So brave and clear and pure,
Is so blessed and divine ,
Than a filthy life endure!
(The Diwali clean up yielded this poem tucked away in a yellowed diary...written by me eons ago!! there was something about the child-like yet inspiring poem...thought i'd share....)
(Pic courtesy: Google images)
