Lord’s Sole Excuse… A poem by Amish Agarwal

Dear God,

 

Your Biblical preaching invites virtues into me,

Your temple bells comforts the pious in me,

Your sundry looks magnifies the strength possessed in me,

But thou one sole excuse, leaves the vacuum of time between you and me.

 

You have tooled me to scale the heights,

You have enlighten about the peril in me,

Thou doctrine has fostered the growth into me,

But still your one sole excuse, creates venom in thee.

 

You have taught the flowers how to blossom,

You have trained the waves to dance on the shores,

You have shown the mighty eagle how to prey,

But still your one sole excuse ruins the life in thee.

 

Lord, your excuse is creating a ruckus in thee,

Lord, your excuse is moulding the wrath in thee,

Lord your excuse lies untold the blind saints who preach,

Your greatest excuse rests, in your presence before thee.

 

Amish Agarwal

Advertisements