Picture By- Blue paper
Whenever I come across the sight of a crematorium
I stop and my mind stops at nearby ground
and it feels the emptiness of its fullness
in all its ornamentation
when ornaments certainly are out of control!
They all would leave one by one
for their own destinations of choice..
And where a lifeless body would burn
the bird would there be left bare alone.
then it would find its unadulterated real gesture
a self luminous, blatant mirror
the lucidity of which would release senses one by one
and the air would be filled with
divine smell of sandalwood
from the deserted burning existence
The bird would peacefully be watching over.
I stop at the sight and take a deep breath
and feel my bird silently watching over..
wave of love runs all over me
for my innocent bird, and my eyes get moistened
my foot feels few drops of the fallen tear.
I bow down to collect them
and put on my forehead on the crematorium ground
pure and auspicious those are the real ornaments for me
so my bird drinks them all.
And I go on loving my little bird
whenever I come across the sight of a crematorium...