Ananta Madhavan Poems
Order Out Of Chaos
Panting up the slopes
With the wind brewing in the trees,
And the mountain line like a row
Of aged teeth decaying,
And the cold air in hunger
Nibbling at my warmth,
I think of the jagged beauty that disturbs
The neatly ordered boxes of my mind;
And I think of the rich irrelevance around me,
And I know that I will never smooth
The scarred and pimpled visage of the earth,
Nor rearrange the scattered stars
In jewelled patterns.
I have no secrets from the mocking peak.
Others may hack and saw,
He troubled the root
With a question mark.