User:Gyalutsang

BOX

by Gyalutsang

Good box in front,

Asking me to fill up,

Like you fill up a tub with water,

Simple mind knows not what to.

A dream long unfetched, still travelling in the sands,

unquenched thirsts we live for,

Many are around like air we breathe,

Hardly felt its presence.

What to burn when I have no oil?

Would the wood be sufficient? -

Like the burn done by oil,

More ever two are different.

Prefer I something more inflammable,

So that it's ray remains after ashes are gone,

As ravines speak of their lost mothers,

Or, poles speak of glory past.

The world is too much with us,

We are not what we were.

Neither spirit, nor strength has robbed,

But, the boxes have made it.

I am trying, hope you have blessed,

As it begins, shall never end,

My river will be eternal like your song,

In it's every waking and repose.