The lost soul

The lost soul

Great is your light, that awakens the radiant day, 

Great is the living life, that you breath into the man of clay. 

And great is the musical dawn, that ends the night of dismay, 

At the simple end, that dwells beyond the complex way... 

Say, why then does your son lose himself along his path 

When he is cast in your own perfect image,on earth? 

Why does he unknowingly deny nature's simple yet profound mirth 

Thus losing himself, forever in the cycle of rebirth? 

Will you not hold his tired hand, and his trembling fingers all, 

To liberate him to triumph, from this hopeless fall? 

Will you not hear his breathless cry, his painfully desperate call, 

And lighten the weight of his sorrow's deadening pall? 

Say, O Creator absolute! Say, O Maker of my soul! 

What, if not you, is my journeys eternal, unchanging goal? 

Yet I burn in agony, like a piece of burning coal, 

By losing you again, O Master of the universe whole! 

O Maker! Lord of the silent night and the hallowed dawn! 

God of the ancients, the living and of the yet unborn! 

Crafter of the skies, you whose crown the heavens adorn, 

Why do you leave me, if I am your creation, your son? 

Why do you not answer my query, in your voice of thunder or rain? 

I know not, yet the questions in my tired heart remain. 

Losing my way thus, in this endless circle of pleasure and Pain, 

I resume my journey, along my solitary way again...

- Anirban Chatterjee

[Photo credits: Lexi Freeman]