WHAT USE ?

               




















                Mother of all worlds ! What use to force Thy thoughts ?
             A foolish thought indeed ! All-knowing One ! Time's meed       
             You give-- not more or less -- we ignorantly plead
             Forgetful of this truth ; our fate is already wrought
             None can ingeniously escape from his lot ;
             You smile, I know, Thou, blessed fount of glee !
             You know our ultimate ends and we like feeble reeds
             Move to and fro in winds of anxiety caught.     

             Ignorant of our goals of where we end
             We strive to strike new ways to alter and mend
             Our ways, though we do know -- beyond our hands
             How selfish people seem ! In spite of burning sands
             We dream of rich harvests to suit our greedy taste
             Craving beyond what we deserve, our peculiar state.

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  5th November, 2016                                       Somaseshu Gutala