PERFECTION

A finger on a cord at best
The musician in soulful quest
Of notes and tones for perfection,
In forging deathless rendition;

In the illuminated slumber,
The ball does mull the cricketer,
In his attention, how the motion
Duped him into imperfection;

The painter's brush has sunk as deep
As pines unfathomed, rapt and stiff
To fetch the colours of vision
With bristles of glorification...

All are apostles, yet for one,
The works of others are exclusion;
In his, each finds the whole revolution
In grace of human civilisation.

They bathe in humankind's well being,
They feed on fruit of selfless calling;
They do bask in the  austere pleasure,

They've banish'd all material leisure...

Inspire do they as inspired are they,
Enchant do they as enchanted are they;
Creators are they of the own universe--
So great, so earnest than this mean cosmos!

So noble is their Creation that God will cede His
To them to metamorphose the Whole Stases,
For they lone can mobilise transformation
As they are votaries of PERFECTION.

                                                     -- N P SAMAL 




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