O True Friend! My hope of Hopes, Where art thou?
\nI have not been holding thee close,
\nYet when time draws nearer to our meeting
\nThis child hopes to be embraced in thy motherly hug.
\nEvery lost moment causes the old man gasp and yet this little one seeks thy warm embrace.<\/p>\n
Time flies by, the day is here.
\nAnd kitchen fires lit to feed thy big Family;
\nThis child knows not how to welcome or do thy bidding
\nAnd these add to his anxiety.
\nHe knows that the family is large and his Mother hath not so much time
\nAnd yet he wants to listen to her cajoling words.<\/p>\n
Thy words hath been the very essence of all motivation
\nThose very words had grown as songs of inspiration
\nEven when he shied away, as thee had spoken to him
\nThat very child took pride in announcing
\nThy sense of conversation as his own achievement.<\/p>\n
Thee hath taught him to live simple and expect nothing
\nThe child remembers only that day; like the tasty desert of a royal feast.
\nHe remembers that feeling but the taste and smell are long gone
\nAs the day nears, Mother beloved, he wishes more.<\/p>\n
All around are the floods of all pervading illusions.
\nMost drown in close waters and he takes notice.
\nThey hope to swim across not knowing it will be endless
\nYou showed him a canoe, so he may float to live;
\nThe child dreams to build a ship but nothing, he has.
\nWay and again, he wants to jump into the seas, exaggerated that all can be done.
\nMother beloved! he knows not that his very existence is thy gift.
\nFrom thy canoe, he talks like a ship’s captain
\nAnd yet he knows not to row.<\/p>\n
You are like the fresh roses of spring, in all their enchanting colors.
\nThy fragrance hath no equal and the jasmine bends down in shame
\nYet this child seeks the lowly dolls of a common pedlar,
\nWhen the most precious gem had been garlanded by thee across his tender neck.<\/p>\n
Bound by his own chains, this child lives now in the limited prison of worldly aspirations
\nHe knoweth not what is invaluable and goes in search of daubles
\nMay he not go astray, for he is yours forever
\nHe is thy son, Mother lead him to thee.<\/p>\n
Summers and winters pass by, Mother dear
\nThy son waits and waits, not able to hear thy call
\nBlissful heaven art thee and to be at thy feet is the goal
\nThis son fears thee might not heed his heart
\nwhile he shies away from thee not revealing his self<\/p>\n
Thou art his biggest aspiration and thou art the only choice
\nWhen thy look falls upon the eyes, they wake up
\nLike the flowers opening up on bright spring day,
\na smile spreads and the heart warms
\nWhen will this ignorant one feel that again?<\/p>\n
Call him to be at thy feet, at thy bidding
\nLest he may lose the most precious.
\nLife is beautiful, for it is thy gift
\nPray, make it worthy and delay not
\nMother beloved, thy son misses thee.<\/p>\n
Shyam Diwakar<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
O True Friend! My hope of Hopes, Where art thou? I have not been holding thee close, Yet when time draws nearer to our meeting This child hopes to be embraced in thy motherly hug. Every lost moment causes the old man gasp and yet this little one seeks thy warm embrace. Time flies by, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[33],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-955","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/955","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=955"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/955\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=955"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=955"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/e.amritapuri.org\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=955"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}