Like a bud, flower, and finest fruit
Like any fruit-trees’ strongest root
Like a seed or weed or waving reed
Like a wise word of a man with creed
Like a story, a poem, or an epic
Like a word or verse of the Holy Book
Like rivers that have their source, mountains
And waters within rivers with their fountains
Voice of my conscience has many sources
The Source of my conscience has many voices.
I think of Arjun the Mahabharata warrior
Who had his dilemma standing as a barrier
To do or not to do was the great question
It’s hence to Lord Krishna his intercession
Do your duty was his kind order
Selfishness is the world’s real disorder
Sisyphus had this dilemma, the myth says
Hence, he listened to his conscience always
Jesus had the dilemma of carrying the cross
His love-filled conscience came to pass
What do I do? Why I do it? Really matters
Is it the highest good of the highest numbers?
I hear my conscience often quaking
I feel my blood like cocoa get baking.
I just close my eyes and contemplate
In love, like a lover, I get consummate.