Life = Death - volume 10 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

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3. PATIENCE-THE GREATEST ARTIST

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to profoundly admire even the most infinitesimal droplet of rain that cascaded from the sky; eventually absorbing into deep recesses of parched soil?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to notice the streaks of latent agony lingering in the afforested land; where the truant man played the most ruthlessly barbarous devil of his kind?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to untiringly appreciate the most orphaned first rays of the evanescent golden dawn; which filtered a fresh chapter of beginning through cold-bloodedly damned blackness?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to blend even the most intangibly dying ingredient of your blood; with each vivaciously exuberant stripe of the enthralling rainbow in enigmatic sky?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to feast every pore of your miserably emaciated nostrils; on the ecstatically unfettered scent of the freshly rain soaked mud?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to be an integral element of every stillness of the atmosphere; the perpetual silence enshrouding -which unveiled a countless mysteries untold of wandering man?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to conceive a boundless steps towards eternal success in your mind; before you could even alight the first physical step on veritable soil?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to be tolerant to every fraternity; caste; creed that existed in the human race; inseparably coalesce with all—to spawn into an unassailable singular mass of living kind?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to treat each anecdote of the severest failure with a smile in your stride; and yet optimistically treating each sunset as the messiah to the next Sunrise?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to talk to your very ownself; miraculously soothe your traumatically frazzled nerves with the unflinchingly fearless baritone that wafted from your throat?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to distinctly distinguish even the tiniest bird in the flapping in blue sky; just by the inimitable ebullience in its wondrous chirp?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to feel the astoundingly unparalleled goodness of creation; even amidst the most bizarrely slipping particles of hapless quick sand?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to make friendships with the most alien; sharing each estrangement  of your heart like being the greatest pals of all times?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to grant a philosophical expression to even the most mundane thought of your mind; delve into the more inscrutably tantalizing version of vibrant life?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to capture even the most intricately vacillating shades of mother nature in the whites of your eye; to spurn enamoring poetry in each tear drop of untamed joy that dribbled down

your cheeks?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to caress the obscurest contours of your silhouette in the ripples of the placid lake; loving each aspect of your persona so that you could thenshower the same bountifully upon countless more of your living kind?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt to read someone else's mind—intransigently concentrating upon each bead of sweat that culminated upon the terse creases of the forehead?

 

Wasn't it while waiting for something—that you inevitably learnt the art of love to its unabashed fullest; stretching the fathomless boundaries of your brain to beyond the definitions of monotonous convention—and into a heaven of impregnable beauty?

 

Ah well ! Irrespective of what people say and would keep opining till the time they had voice and the earth existed-'Patience' for me is the greatest artist  and brings out the greatest artist in you—Isn't it irrefutably true ?