TALE OF A GRAIN

BISWAJIT



tale-of-a-grain-authorbiswajit

                    Staring at me                           
                           — the gray sandy grain?
                           Did you know where had I been?

                           I fell apart
                           Off mountain's cliff.
                           Living anew, though, had feared ruin.

                           I thought I lost
                           The mountain-esteem,
                           But see, mine luck was rare:

                           I became free
                           Flowed and flew with
                           Stringent stream, arrogant air.

                           But then I saw
                           I was settling down
                           Upon this calm, noble land.

                           Lumping again,
                           Forming new rock;
                           Nature disallowed disband!
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