The Ascetic Poem by Palitha Ranatunge

The man walks passing by
Every day and night
In rain in and hot sun
Wearing a shabby and lousy coat
Covering a little of him,

His face shaved, but
Weary of no sleep at night
His search for something
Missing from his life
May be our life as well,

We do not have the time
For this journey of finding …
He searches repeatedly
Searching for the same
But unknown to us
May be he knows.

Sometimes I encounter him
At the pavement of a dark corner
He stands still gazing at nothing
Deep in thought with mysterious
Bliss in his eyes,
You might say it's the pain
But I always believe, it as
A great bliss of achievement
Of the status so called
That can be attained
By only an ascetic
In a sacred and secret life,

I know you cannot transform
Your bliss into words and letters
And circulate among us
Who have still been loitering
Around, at the same place …
Pursuit of happiness
Believing blindly the present day
Asian and Middle-Eastern mythologies.
Have you ever been determined
In exploring for any such truth
In our characterless neighborhood?