by Hari Ravikumar
The wise men and women of old
drank the ocean of knowledge
until the last drop
as if ’twere a child’s whim
walked across the ocean bed
majesty glowing from within
silently transcending the world
of material gain, of illusion
The undaunted thirsty few
given to faith and piety
jumped into the ocean sans clue
drowning themselves, wiping identity
becoming one with the sparkle of the sea
and the flow of the mighty waves
crossing over to the world yonder
by their mere act of surrender
The learned and the young
gulped down a few mouthfuls
perspiring, yet striving
filled stomachs but unquenched thirst
trying to cross the ocean
in a feeble little country raft
made from twigs, firewood, soil
they triumph too, through their toil
I approached the bank of the ocean casually
realised soon I was the last one to be
ignorant, blind, O foolish me
the reflection of my face is all I can see
