By P.
SAMA RAO, B.L.
To the
lover of pelf
The
silver and the gold,
And the
jewel-lustre
Of the
sunrise and the sundown,
Are
dissolved
Into the
parchment of maize
Sealed
and imprinted
With the
‘Promise to Pay’;
The
tinkle and the fire
Turned to
‘cash’ and grey
Is all
the wealth
That has
come to be
His
absorbing passion…….
To the
pelfless poor
That toil
night and day
Unto
themselves
For
meagre bread,
Unto
others for luxuries,
Dreams
and dreams are only left
At
‘Baptism’ and ‘Confession’
As solace
and joy,
Their
only possession....
Dreams of
color lying latent
And
sparkling like silver water-threads
Beneath
the hard and sable crust
Of the
unsympathetic Earth………
Dreams of
sound that are filed
Into
vibrant notes of song
In the silken
throats of warblers,
Are all
the wealth and flicker of bliss
To the
twilight-wrapped, homing poor,
Red shot
with the gore of the setting sun,
Aching to
be born into a chubby One,
Mellowed
with the faint grey suggestion
Of the
Godhead…..is all the wealth
Inane…….ungraspable………