(The Art of Life)

Who will tell me what am I?
A bubble of water
Put out by a whiff of wind,
Or the flame of a lamp
That burns forever in my heart?

I had rather ask the sky
That changes its colour
Ever so often,
Or the ocean
That rarely if ever is still.

The trees around me always seem
To hum the song of life.
Isn't the whole forest resonant
With their turbulent chant?

The birds who peck beside my window,
And the squirrel in my garden,
All seem to belie it, though.
They hop and twirl around
Stealing
What little fare life offers
Without bothering
Beyond the here and the now.

 © CR Mittal

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