There is no music that I can find,
Sky looks forlorn,
And air feels stationary,
Emptiness has pitched a camp.
Maybe sorrow is the reality,
Joys only a punctuation mark,
In the long narrative of life
Illusions become more powerful than the truth.
Running as fast I can,
Days turn into weeks,
And weeks into months –
But what is the race for?
It is true that empty stomach aches,
But humans have other hungers:
Search for God, love, beauty,
And music of the soul.
But today’s soulless world
Has pushed these sublime strivings aside,
And substituted materialism –
As an ultimate prize.
I feel a leaf tossed in economics,
Caged in narcissistic existence,
Earlier cultures respected the unknown,
Strived for integration with nature.
Suffern, New York, September 2, 2016
maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com
