The hill is ancient, ancient is the glen but not the thickets – The leaves, the buds, the flowers and the wind that passes though… These are ever new
Ancient is the blue of the sky, but not the cloud - It moves like a child new to walking, moving ever zigzag, ever enchanting
The river bed is ancient, but not the water in the river, the flow is new, water moves on, does not age, their ripples are as new prayers of a sage
The mud, the slush and the clay it leaves far behind, boulders turn into shapely pebbles, the pebbles into gravels revealing specks of gold, nuggets of gems and diamond grains
Why not we too remain ever new? Leaving behind the slush of anger, revenge, greed and lust why not we turn into tiny grains to reveal the luster of friendship and love!
Anger is ancient Age-old is lust Archaic is greed But love is ever new… The gem of gems that we ever need
