Everybody knows it and everybody flows in it.
But no one knows its origin.
Its birth was simple and small for sure;
As a babbling baby’s talk,
Then a friendly exchange of letters,
A family affair; a friendly affair.
No one knows from which point
The tiny candid stream swelled
And became a river gigantic
With fish big and small swimming!
Like some rivers of the East,
Men cast their corpses into its waves,
Some spat into it
And others made it their comfort station.
Poachers and encroachers abounded.
Some tried to slice the river!
Some bottled it,
Some colored it,
A few poisoned it!
The river ran polluted
With its belly bulged with
The garbage men threw from their backyards.
Rarely one could see
Some precious little pieces of art,
A tambourine, a viola, or a painting.
An emotional note
Of passion or bereavement,
Of wisdom or enlightenment.
A soapbox,
A pack of candles,
A revolved prayer,
An occasional mirror,
A self-portrait,
Enhanced, painted faces
Which scarcely resembled the original.
That’s all!
The rest were all foams.
Just spuming foams!
The dregs ejected from
Rotten hearts and toxic thoughts!
Some drank from it; got drunk and dozed off.
Some others, in a wild intoxication,
Got into a row, spat frothing venom on the rest,
Triggering waves of unrest!
Some nostalgic ones sat alone on the river bank,
Musing on the olden days,
When there were only small pools
With crystalline water
Reflecting the moon faithfully;
Where men and women of all ages
Unveiled their hearts
Through words that mirrored their souls.
The river runs with hidden tears
To lay its whorled head
On the ocean’s shoulders
To weep out the poison,
Of hatred, lies, and factions
And breathe in
The emancipating breeze of infinitude!
Copyright @Abhilashfraizer

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