He is villagepeasant
simply living in a swathe of his plains
with a scythe in his forehand
and his fingers evenly poised sweatingly
on the wooden plough of his toil and moil
as simple as the humble ancestors
as they were walking the dust
far from the dawn to dusk
and as humble as the vast expanse
of the lengthening sky
as high as the small things
that fill the crux
of the pains and pleasures
in wisdom delight
never lowering the depth of his faith
at midnight darkness
as if the folk songs will ever be saving
his harvest of blood and sweats
to stoke the burning fire
of his home and hearth in twilight sun

In twilight sun and in lightening clouds
he alone reads the sundial of his destiny
when the rain lashes on his valley
when the vagrant storm threatens
days and nights of his small existence
his god has lent him a forest
to dwell in a hermit hut
to plough a lonely furrow
all in a country fair
as if to cry in happiness
and smile away all the wraths
of the forbidden poverty
in stoic perseverance
and in soulful endurance
of defying diligence
to dearly pursue the path of salvation
of fulfilling the endless saga
of a fairy tale life
unto the blessings of death
in his heavenly abode
weaving the myths
of wordly truths and lies
in a semblance of hope and despair

All hopes and despair
belying in piles of ageold wisdom
he will shake the world I know
I know the villagepeasant will go
for the long harvest to gather
he will leave everything
for all and everyone
his ancestral home and hearth
cattles, corns and the fields
of seasonal rain and draught
his sunny days, his moonlit nights
all for nothing of pristine beauty
to share the godly loves
his wisdom of togetherness
with the nature's bounty
wealth of universal faithfulness
and brotherhood of all to all
along with his treasure trove
of life's tranquility and eternity
his poverty for all and everyone
to share the bowl of hunger
from everyone's cup of weal and woes
I am sure he will not die for nothing
taking away all and everything with him
to sustain the pleasures of pains
of unrequited death
that is never to haunt him
down the long aisles of life's mission
to love for love as a villagepeasant.

Categories: Poetry [t]

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