Saturday, March 24, 2012

Poem

Grandfathers life boat was anchored
with Ramakrshna mission ropes
With Vivekananda as compass
he navigated few streams
of limited social choice
and died peacefully in sleep.

Our devouring generation
never happy with accepting
maps a course on IPhones
for a gluttonous ship
making narrowing concentric circles
in an ocean of plenty
heading for an epicenter
of restless emptiness