“I believe in your lips
but not in your tongue.
Your lips are salubrious
but venomous is your tongue.
It intoxicate those lips,
my guide of an eternal road
through the dark unknown –
a core languid with the burden
of the soul, and a soul languid
with the burden of the core,”
says an infant to the world.

The world whispered,
“My child, in your mother’s womb
you dream that you can make
the world dance, to your own tune;
Suddenly yours eyes open;
and you see the world as it really is,
the dead leaves floating in the wind,
in the human valley, plagued by the
ripening diversity, and decaying unity.”

No, my world!
“I shall never be hopeless,
whatever you may say.
I shall rhyme my life with the
rhythm of the God’s chime, and
row my boat of love over the human’s core
until their stream of abhorrence runs dry,”
sang the infant to the world.

But, my child, said the world,
“Will you remember these words, when you grow old?”


Copyright 2006 Bhuwan Thapaliya