That round plate of silver Shining bright up in its home Shades of cloud as decor strings A melody of chaos like a painting, she rings Criss-crossing it’s monotony Lending the plain silver a chaotic harmony. Chaos which spells fun on a day When hurried and harried souls Run helter skelter chasing their daily chores Seek solace in the comfort of disharmony Raise a toast, marvel at an imperfection, eyes teary No room for gloom, nor for lamenting And the heart seeks a bold curve across that perfect painting. And on a day when thunderstorm threatens mankind A flush of sickness, of war, of emotional homicide And birds and animals seek safe haven; they foresee danger Lest they too become the next prey of the cruel ranger And man still wears his false crown of being the Maker When arrogance feigns foolishness, man thinks he is the Supreme Provider On such a day, the round Moon smiles, Brings forth Her solemn power and Her million lines She calls for the Grand Painter to paint the picture of the Complete Chaos , The Painter makes the brushes dance to the tune of utter devastation in the Holy Cosmos And the clouds, with their innocent hues, Wreak havoc on silver with their brushes in audacity, turning mellow into a rude bruise. That day, mankind pauses His conscience, from a deep slumber, awakened A sense of helplessness, of fear and of regret. He looks up with remorse and sees the Grand Master Her prowess unleashed, Her Glory everywhere The Earth in Her glazed silver, Her solemn power spreading far and near. In every nook and every corner In every crease and caress In the Earth beneath and the greens galore In the sky above and vastness abound In the food on his plate and the clothes man wears In the silence of the magnanimous quiet we lie, humble, in this grand universe. And the clouds laugh And the sigh of the Moon engulfs For there’s no delight for Her In her power and strength and in showcasing Her artistry Through Her silence And Her quiet strength, omnipresence. Through the silent nights and the days which scream of want Of touch and forgiveness and a place in your heart Of regrets and sorrows of wrongs of the past, A heartstring touches a precious note, at long last A caress of love flows through music and a wish to end the loneliness An echo ensues breaking the silence Of a vow to be taken, all ills forgiven, Of drowning in an ocean of endless love Yonder flies with wings outstretched our little white dove, Bearing a message of love, peace and modesty On land and on ocean, the dove sprinkles silver droplets of prosperity And the Moon smiles down at Her messenger on ground, while the Earth rests in compassion and abundance.
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