The Self Poem by Golam Robbani Shaikh
The Self
No wheels of past, no ravages;
Recedes the history.
Still earth tears blood,
Torn in grief,
Shaken with fears: for
With sap of doubt, rays of desire
In soil of greed forms the Self—
Treasuring and consuming—
The Smaug—we slave for:
And our mind and heart, his kingdom,
And the Soul, which makes a complete Man,
Now is Other to Him.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: human nature
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5/5/2024 6:23:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A very good, introspective poem, Robbani. Thanks for sharing