The men who dwell on land theirs state they have an open mind;
No trouble may happen upon they feel; ‘We are always kind!’
Some biding with those men but sense there is something amiss;
They say they’re having a tough time; ‘A thing or two we miss.’
It happed when I wended my way across a teensy town,
to that wood eerie, silent, dark;
A library stood beside the park.
It well drew my attention, for its entrance had a clown.
He seeing me did nicely bark;
And looking into eyes mine, said, ‘Hark!’
Raymond was a boy of seven,
‘What’s meant by’, he asked when, ‘heaven?’
Mother took some time to answer;
Meanwhile danced as was a dancer.
The girl first smiled, went minutes by; she told him then, ‘You be my guy.’
No bounds knew joy, on him light dawned; What he said next was quite profound:
‘My darling you are; let me not cry; but truth be told: I am a spy.’
Praying to God right now, I only ask
The power to simply and calmly be,
I’m now, you know, sporting a saffron mask;
Let me tell you today I won’t be free.
Your coming would surely cease, and ceasing would conveniently end.
You can’t do your household chores, nor could corruption be condemned!
If ‘c’ ceased, could Christian Bale climb, clouds collect, crowded clubs contend?
Forget China, countries might have to agree on a different name, can’t pretend.
Today as we celebrate Independence Day;
I would like to state this crystal clear
If you are in India, you have a say;
And that you have to keep in mind, my dear.