When, with a glimpse of delight,
In the morning light,
You wake up, all in peace;
When no dizzy nerve can make you lazy —
There begins a blissful day!
When you attempt a curious peep,
In a mood, immaculate and deep,
Along the bedside window panes —
You’re prized a bucolic horizon ahead
That lets weary thoughts shrink away!
When, in a tuneful pace,
Without a feverish race,
All at once you pick up your pen —
With an enlivened will to write your life,
You foresee a blissful day!
But, when you gather (that) your ‘bliss’
Isn’t in the morning dish,
You face, in rue, the earth —
As if you meant a better world,
With a verdict to those gainsay!
And your emotions squeeze,
Within your search for a day of bliss;
When you feel not ‘life’ is bliss…
'The bliss’ has slipped in a well, perhaps —
Deep and dark, deprived of a ray!
And that blissful day,
Has its twist in your way —
You live it, not knowing what it is;
Spanning every pulse of heart… It’s there, silent,
But not when your ‘Soul’ ceases to say!