Monday, February 28, 2011

There...

There is a brook in the midst of the wood
That wishes to be left alone

There is a salmon going up that brook
Wishing its journ was a swoon

There is a little boy standing by the sea
Who wishes to fish in the deep

There is an old man fishing in the deep
Weathering a storm to come back home

There is a hill, smothered by clouds
Wishing it could melt with the plains

There is a plain, freckled by humanity
Lying prostate and fathoming it's bane

There is a writer whose world is his attic
With only a mind to travel far

There is a pilot flying around the globe
With no time to see where he goes

There is an iota of hope someplace, everytime
It's just that we cannot see

There is joy in present, howsoever petty
It's just that we are too busy.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

"Jaha Chai Taha Bhul Kore Chai
Jaha Pai Taha Chai Na."

Anonymous said...

This poem beautifully explores the internal struggles and desires that connect all living things, from the brook to the human soul. The sense of yearning — whether it's for solitude, fulfillment, or meaning — is a poignant thread throughout. I particularly appreciate how the poem touches on different perspectives: the fish seeking peace in the brook, the boy wanting to explore the depths, and the old man enduring hardship for the sake of returning home. The sense of time and place is vivid, yet there's a universal melancholy that transcends individual experiences. The closing verses offer a thoughtful reminder that hope and joy often reside in the small, overlooked moments, urging us to pay attention to what’s right before us. It’s a beautiful reflection on life’s fleeting nature, often unnoticed in our rush to understand the bigger picture.