Nestlings, The Verses of My Dreams
written by: Pramod Rastogi
A seed I was, a tree I have become.
Held onto the earth, I stand upon a space
I behold as my own kingdom.
My foundations have gone deep,
Bringing me food and drink.
In cascades, I’ve seen years flow by –
I have lost count of how many –
And have seen wars, and countless soldiers
March past on the street facing me.
I have pierced high the sky
And my branches have spread out
To give shade to those in need.
My age has started to count
As I listen to the creaking music
Of my frame gone wild in delirium.
Birds have made me their abode,
A few to rest their pumping hearts
And others to make their nests
And give birth to nestlings –
Each, I vow, would create verses
Of my dreams. They will all fly away
And will cluster at times to string poetry
Which will fly fearlessly like butterflies
Of different forms and colors,
But united in their message
Of harmony and love to humanity
In tribute to this poet of a silent future.
Pramod Rastogi
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