Our House Poem by Ravi Panamanna

This is an ancient house
Whose walls are chiefly brown
The building blocks are bones
The windows – the sensory organs

The pipes are the vessels
The waters being the blood
The pump house is a marvelous device
That works for decades without rest.

The wiring net work is par excellent
No electronics engineer can duplicate.
The system is always alert
All the natural laws are finely knit.

The drainage is total,
For us it may all seem casual!
No repair is required
If our stomach is properly cared

A battalion guards the house
No nation has such a vast regiment.
It is very much a silent battle,
We can spend peaceful nights.

The house is our own,
This is a gift of our parents.
We owe a debt to our ancestors,
We are given the house to live in.

This is a fine construction,
Yet we need pay fine attention.
Living in tune with nature, body and heart,
We can play the finest part.

07/04/1991