Monday, August 18, 2008

I am not Shakespeare

Can a sword kill with bullets?
Or a gun cut with its edges?
Can an axe plough a garden?
Or a hoe cut down a tree?

Can the moon wake up the world,
Shine so bright that sleeping birds come alive?
Can it cover the skies with such brightness
That engenders play of kids?

Can the sun soothe men?
Endear them to the bed of sleep?
Can it sing with owl and cricket,
And hide the tears of the meadow?

Can the ox gallop across a field?
Run with the wind in speed and haste?
Can it dash in urgent manner?
Carrier of impatient master on its back?

Can the horse delay in its pace unless in playful sport?
Yoked with ploughs to farm a garden,
Can it in patience drag to and from the distance-
Its strong feet put to miserly waste?

How then can I do a similar thing-
Abandon myself to become somebody else-
Unsatisfied by my progress
Or envious of others?

Shall I try to cut with a gun
Or shoot with a sword?
Shall I gallop upon an ox
Or cause a horse to plough?

Shall I neglect the gift within me-
The hand of the potter upon me?
Shall I avoid the work allotted to me
To gain the reward of another's due labour?

Let me be myself then
Embrace the God given destiny for me.
Lord your work itches in my hands,
So let me get the paper and pen.

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