He , who has the softness in hand,
The softness that opens the flower
At the waking dawn of the early hour
And could close the flower at day's end,
He has the dreadful might to create a storm,
The storm, that uproots strong trees,
That makes mansions come on knees
And break every stone of it to no form.
He who decors each flower with dew
And sends a silent drizzle down,
Who hides sweet springs below the ground
And freshens the earth's day as new,
He throws the violent heavy downpour
And set the sea with its highest tide
And move rivers away from their ride
He changes the course of sea and shore.
Call Him God, with many a name
Or the nature's arrogant game
He is the breeze and He is the gale
He is the ant and the huge whale
He is the symbol of worldly truth
That anything fragile is strong underneath
Strength is given birth by weakness
Mind gains strength only at its meekness.
No comments:
Post a Comment