The Wings of Age

Crushed, dirty, clean or sparkling Shrunk, wrinkled or spread
Whatever it be
Makes no difference.
After all it ever remains
My mother?s hem
How I long
To hide in them.
(Mother?s Hem)

Night comes from moving wheel of time
Later in course shines the golden dawn sublime
World sees whirlwind in types different
Even mind and thoughts have its variant
Supplemental are destruction and creation
But the tune of creation is ever liked with admiration
This is whirlwind.
(This is whirlwind)

When blossoms fall out of season
Also leaves become dry without reason
And food drops down from the dish
To whom cuckoo will tell her wish?
(Cuckoo?s Coos)

Hands are not yellow with turmeric
Feet not coloured by hena
Pearls are not taken out of shell
Only chemical colours are in arena
Adulterated is when mercury itself
How will the mirror tell the truth?
(How will the Mirror
Tell the Truth)
Pain has pierced the heart
Burning inside are many a flame
Several problems are raising head
The blood is boiling again
(Where It Is?)

When disappointment kills devotion
Becomes a bondage in restrain
The agitated man with his valour
Emerges like a mountain.
(New Creations)
As rain drizzles
And tickles it whispers
Open and stretch
The sari?s hem
To welcome the one
Who is so near and dear.
(Welcome)

Language of anguish watered in tears
Articulates the secrets of mind distressed;
For how long can be concealed
Resounding of the wails of the inner-self?
(Inner Wail)

History is on wait everyday
With its book with pages blank
Those deserving are lagging behind
Running are dwarfs for recording their names.
(History)

Traversing all new paths each day
We assume the role of a new Sun
Then illuminated be the entire world
We must do some noble works.
(Resolution)