atiguhya padma
10-21-2005, 11:04 AM
In the quietude of this evening sky
Where the threads of light create
A cloth of wonder
I believe for an instance
That the world could be at peace.
This near silence,
The whispering of a requiem,
That echoes round the ruins
Of some medieval monastery,
The humming of congregations,
All go whistling past the moon.
The darkness of all that is
Interfused with seeds of light
Finely tunes this orchestra
Of opinion and belief,
Until a hushed serenity
Evolves into tranquil
And unobtrusive
Silence.
On a night like this
What belief could
Possibly matter?
Covered in beauty
That cannot be
Reproduced
A lullaby of silence
Is the only adequate
Response
When we have no words left
To paint a picture with,
When we have no glimpse
Of our subject
Then we must
Just stand here
And observe
The aesthetics
Of Nature
Where the threads of light create
A cloth of wonder
I believe for an instance
That the world could be at peace.
This near silence,
The whispering of a requiem,
That echoes round the ruins
Of some medieval monastery,
The humming of congregations,
All go whistling past the moon.
The darkness of all that is
Interfused with seeds of light
Finely tunes this orchestra
Of opinion and belief,
Until a hushed serenity
Evolves into tranquil
And unobtrusive
Silence.
On a night like this
What belief could
Possibly matter?
Covered in beauty
That cannot be
Reproduced
A lullaby of silence
Is the only adequate
Response
When we have no words left
To paint a picture with,
When we have no glimpse
Of our subject
Then we must
Just stand here
And observe
The aesthetics
Of Nature