The Cofessional Cry Poem by Subrata Ray

The Confessional Cry.

While this earth, Paradise, and Heaven,
Go rampant to indulge pleasure of sense,
My imaginations beget further bondage,
I invite pollution, rather than clean-age.

While, inherited habits take stations,
Of Sattva, rajas, and tamasin life,
I hold inertia, covet fame, and pleasure,
With a blind man's eye and stumble.

While my I sounds to possess things around,
Each day collectssourcesto found,
The monument of my earthly permanence,
I pall my soul with layers, as earthing a grave.

While with interest, I sow seeds of actions,
And keep myself hankering after its fruits,
I inspire to flourish the tree of delusion,
And foolish walls I do erect around me.

While I give precedence of pleasures over pains,
And fail to see them as passing dreams,
I do harm my impartial liberty,
And suffer in the scale of loss and gains.

While my mind candles unsteadily with waves of winds,
And flames not to see, the image of seated God in my shrine,
I cry and cry for His grace, to repair,
So that I may not be the cause of my self ruin.