Poetry Archive
Bliss
The text is presented as written. Line breaks are preserved from the archived source.
I wake up on a cool morn,
To find myself on green grass.
The blue sky stretches out,
Like a vast dome over my head.
The birds chirp in the trees,
A cool breeze ruffles my hair.....
Surprised I sit up and......
Find myself in a meadow,
That stretches to the feet of the hills
Hills veiled in the morning mist.....
The sun rises as I watch,
Out of the grey vapour in the east.
A Golden ball of fire, He rides,
Rides in the heavens above.
The mist rises as the day clears,
A wonderful silence pervades,
In the wide flats that stretch,
That stretch to the feet of the hills.
The silence is broken by the chirp,
The chirp of the birds in the trees.
A silver stream tinkles by, filled,
Filled with fish of myriad hues.
I let the Bliss sink in,
Into my very bones, and then.....
Then I wake with a jerk !!!
It was all but a dream....
Very few places there are today,
That are filled with beauty,
Where true unspoiled nature exists.
For man has ruined all in his Quest,
Quest to find some Bliss.
He cannot appreciate the beauty...
The wonder of nature's art.
He disfigures it and calls it lovely,
While marring it with some stroke of his.
Bliss is for those creatures,
Creatures that are one with the wild.
Can today's man understand the Bliss,
The Bliss in the sounds of silence ???
When you can hear the wind whisper,
The crickets chirp and watch,
The clouds scud across the sky ???
Can he ever learn to love,
The velvety darkness of the night,
When the stars twinkle fitfully,
When owls hoot mournfully,
While the wolves howl far off ???
Can he ever understand,
The beauty of a spring's day,
The might of the summer's sun,
The sound of the rain on the leaves,
And the bite of the winter's winds ?
He is cut off from the world,
He seeks frost in summer,
He wants rain when it is hot,
He prays for heat when it rains,
And he fences out the winter's winds.
He is ever seeking comfort,
And has not found it till now,
For it can never dawn on him,
That Nature is comfort......
That Nature is Bliss incarnate.
Bliss shall find Man when
When he takes Nature as it is....
When he can finally understand,
That to be one with Nature,
Is to be one with Bliss.
This poem belongs to the poetry archive on Chips’nCode. Where surviving legacy material exists, the original title graphic is kept with the poem as part of the record rather than rebuilt into something newer.
Copyright © Manoj Prajwal Bhattaram. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations used with clear attribution, these poems may not be copied, redistributed, adapted, or used to create derivative works without prior written permission.