Clouds give us the real messages
Not the recorded SMS ones;
Time shows us what truth is
Not the printed pages of the text book.
Mother earth can hold the germ
Longer than our flesh and blood;
And the germ so tiny in size
Holds the whole life in it.
Wind carries the germ far and wide
To be planted in the soil and to wait;
The time comes and it sprouts and grows
An awesome fruiting tree is right in our front.
I don’t run hither and thither
But look into the sky for my message.
I know life takes its turns like the creek
That flows from hills and runs for fields.
I don’t search for God or ask Him anything
The Divine Nature takes its decision.
And takes care if I I have a worthy germ
Or uses me as manure when I decompose.