FROM A LITERARY SABBATICAL

FROM A LITERARY SABBATICAL

Sticky and rusty were my pen and thought
How could the writer fare when he strays off
His stuff for a while; how rusty he could be
Though literary sabbatical it was for me
My poetic instinct got sticky and rusty

How do you awake these flows I asked
Then from the rubric of my mental reservoir
Released upon the mind, the tonic of speech
“Wake up you slumbering thought,” I howled
Feed the hungry soul there with thought
To heal and comfort the weary soul of men

Thoughts so precious the soul to remedy
Of pain and weariness the world so gruesomely
Release upon her and those that dwell therein
For the burden of life and worldly pain
Thus a song writer once say; “Don’t carry the
World on your shoulder, for there are people
Going round like and me and you”

Walk in harmony with the world around you
Everything and everyone has pain to bear
Yet they veiled them with smile of joy
Meditate upon what bestowed joy on you
Live on that which gladdens your soul
Search diligently for that which is a spring of joy

I searched for joy many years gone by
Not knowing which to search, I stumbled
And staggered along the those slippery parts
Till I heard the voice; when I paused to ponder
“I give unto you peace…. not as the world giveth”
Strong and immortal words; thus raised I my soul