THE WINGS OF AGE

Crushed dirty clean or sparkling Shrunk wrinkled or spreadWhatever it beMakes no difference.After all it ever remainsMy mother’s hemHow I longTo hide in them.(Mother’s Hem)Night comes from moving wheel of timeLater in course shines the golden dawn sublimeWorld sees whirlwind in types differentEven mind and thoughts have its variantSupplemental are destruction and creationBut the tune of creation is ever liked with admirationThis is whirlwind.(This is whirlwind)When blossoms fall out of seasonAlso leaves become dry without reasonAnd food drops down from the dishTo whom cuckoo will tell her wish?(Cuckoo’s Coos)Hands are not yellow with turmericFeet not coloured by henaPearls are not taken out of shellOnly chemical colours are in arenaAdulterated is when mercury itselfHow will the mirror tell the truth?(How will the Mirror Tell the Truth)Pain has pierced the heartBurning inside are many a flameSeveral problems are raising headThe blood is boiling again(Where It Is?)When disappointment kills devotionBecomes a bondage in restrainThe agitated man with his valourEmerges like a mountain.(New Creations)As rain drizzlesAnd tickles it whispersOpen and stretchThe sari’s hemTo welcome the oneWho is so near and dear.(Welcome)Language of anguish watered in tearsArticulates the secrets of mind distressed;For how long can be concealedResounding of the wails of the inner-self?(Inner Wail)History is on wait everydayWith its book with pages blankThose deserving are lagging behindRunning are dwarfs for recording their names.(History)Traversing all new paths each dayWe assume the role of a new SunThen illuminated be the entire worldWe must do some noble works.(Resolution)