Calm, lustrous, with the spark of diamonds,
They crashed on the rocks and swept the sand.
The blue waters emptied in the unclaimed horizon,
The white waves ended, with a rustle, on the land.
Some miles out, a fisher in a trawler
Casts his net in the depths below.
A large ocean-liner streams on the waters;
A boat is tied with no oars to row.
Some little puny children leap about and play;
Some others, in the sun's rays, laze,
The world is still, stir it who will,
Eternity passes with every passing phase.
Some distance from here, houses line the road.
Some shops are bustling, few shutters are down.
In the quiet heat, some men on the beat,
A smile on one's lips to complement other's frown.
Large shady palms shade dotted towns,
Voices of birds and men discreet.
The blue seas stretch till my vision blurs,
Heaps of sand under my feet.
Who knew that peace stays not long?
Who said that cruelty hath its song?
Who would have wondered death would strike?
Who saw nature's fury so strong?
Far away, some 250 leagues from here,
Under a depth of 5000 yards,
A tremor, most dangerous in years 40,
Who knew, could ever be on the cards?
But strike it did, few knew how;
Bringing death and disaster in its wake.
The bolt came when slumbered half the world,
And the other half was half awake.
But that was not all, to say the least,
It caused the sea to rattle and swirl.
The white horses did foam and fret,
The lustrous waves did twist and curl.
The white horses raced against time
And struck the shores of distant lands.
The waves broke the same rocks it played with,
And they in inner into the sands,
And then gone were they, ere few could rise,
Few could wake, fewer realize.
And all that was left, was debris of death,
Under the clear blue skies.
The sky was clear it was;
The world was back to the calmth;
The peace did restore back to peace;
The sun was back to warmth.
The sea stretched on, till the horizon,
The sand lies there in heaps.
But where the pretty lass leaped about,
Her sordid mother weeps.
There are many stories to narrate,
There are tales to recall;
There's a story in each debris,
That once stood long and tall.
Lacs died, many more affected,
Many left orphaned, Many left homeless;
Many no means to live or survive,
Many carcasses rotting, many corpses boneless.
Only He knows why it happened;
Who knows the reason of his fury?
To god's mercy no broker,
To His punishment no jury.
Big men come and big men go
With tales of life sublime.
Big waves come and big waves go
That etch their marks on the sands of time.
|
|
