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KARMA : SONNET 144

                                    KARMA
                                  Sonnet 147

The farmer's tilling his estate, with toil,
His body firmly bent to generate
Food grains to live on, from the lifeless soil;
Contrary to the clerk who rests his fate
On his mind to forge unflaw'd records.
The deeds of both though diverse from each other,
A drawing of a separator affords
No space between the two, in grades or honour:
My deeds of mind or body fetch same virtues
As long as they inflict on you no loss;
And irrespective of one's revenues,
A servant's no less weighty than his boss.
Whate'er I do in righteous way is Karma,
And that for me and you and them is Dharma.

©️ N P Samal 


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