The Journey
The bridge there
stood on three pillars,
the fourth one, Nirvana,
was under repair.
An owl threw its shadow
across the rising moon;
hounds hauled at dusk
in the setting sun:
ah! the ill-fated soul,
the ill-fated soul.
The spell was cast -
mind worked without words.
Wheels moved one circle,
carried the soul one step
nearer the three-storeyed world.
Hell was bypassed, rightly so,
for that was the purpose
of the detour,
the crowd had little understood.
Then the morning came,
and a sparrow chirped,
a squirrel swerved,
and a child clapped -
as the carriage drove
across the oasis
into Oblivion.
--
c s shah
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