The hand of fortune is more effective than the arm
of strength
Put your Greed aside and the neck of contentment will raise its head erect,
What can the might of Man or the muzzle of a cannon do, tell me
If the light from the Heavens does not the very same thought , reflect.

When clouds above do not unburden that which you preciously seek
And keep you you away from the warmth of a shining Sun,
What do you do but, silently, pray for Mercy then from on high
For, there is nothing that one can do when impotent is the trigger of a defunct gun.

O Preacher, show me the Saint who is not a Sinner
And, I will show you the Saint in the being of every Sinner,
I bring hope and obedience and the Lord will draw the pen of forgiveness, I hope
Across my sins, and willy- nilly, declare me the Winner.

What makes an impression on the heart is lovely to the Eye
Like the colours of the Rainbow in a showered sky
Or, the silence of the veiled eye that speaks not but is heard
‘Cause the beating heart hears all others that walk to the same drum’s beat,
Neither Rainbow nor what the Eye sees is substance true
Nor, does it have much life of its own,
Why does beauty in the face of reality, fly?

If the Owl does not the Sun keep company, and
Prefers the silvery Moon, the darkness of Night
To the Sun it matters not,
For, it takes nothing away from the brilliance of the Orb
To whom they (both the Owl and  the Night)
Matter not, a little or a lot.

What is my Sin, O Sermonizer, when it is you who provide the wherewithal
The brush, paper, the model, the colours and Paint,
You tempt me, you test me, beyond the contours of restraint,
I know that wisdom lies within the arms of Patience, but
As Tempter, you have connived and that is not just, quaint!

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)