Saturday, February 3, 2024

The Monk

I'm getting old said the monk

Looking at his reflection in the water


He took a palm-full of water in his hand

And as it slipped through the crevices of his fingers

He said this is how time slips

You can hold it for a bit but not for long


In the eyes of his disciple

Reflected the image of a frail old man

Wrinkled skin and spots on his face


These green meadows

I've walked on it and many others before me

And I know more would step after me


In my youth, I tried to possess this land

Yet, when I saw it began to possess me

I had to leave it for others to enjoy


Far too many things happen in your life

For you to cry on 

Too many things that will make you sad

Yet there's a morning that breaks out with gladness


Greatness is not great

You're nothing more than a name and a memory

As you step outside of this realm

Memories rarely outlive a generation


Consider this water

It keeps flowing despite rocks and falls

So be your life. 


Vinal 

29/01/24