The Flight. Poem by Subrata Ray

The soul like a caged bird comes and goes,
It tries to feel its origin, , and feel to know.
When with some one's divine glance,
Touch of auspicious hand, the shades of prison drop,
A flight starts, from the cave of heart,
And force less ascension dismays the Time.

Dearest beloved, comes and stretches,
The soul to transcend to the realm of light,
Strange sights and sounds, evolve round and round,
And the pilgrim becomes free of all mundane frights.