This Heritage From Earth

Not whatso of this world You'll take with you, I've often heard, Nothing whatso, When you die and go; And wonder I About this lie— In a journey from here to fore, There's plenty to take from this shore. I sure would take plenty Of heritage with me: The Nature's spring-born splendour, A child's natural candour; Take, early dawn's shining dew, Dying dusk's shimmering hue; Fragrance released from scorched lands Soon as first rainfall there lands; Take meditating distant hills, Or dancing mist lost in thrills; The tranquil of silent stones, Wealth and will that this earth owns; The spring flowers' fragrant smile, And a child's innocent guile; Silent ache of loving hearts, The twain at last when departs; Two friends' fecund company, Strangers keen to accompany; Trying to hide tears two strangers, Struggle of parting passengers; A tired soul's sweetly sound sleep, An indigent's dreamy peep— Heavier gets my luggage, As vast seems this heritage. Plenty of things with eyes dreary, Tonnes of wealth I'd with me carry, All this though my bare empty hands, When I leave from these bounteous lands, There's wealth here, not in heaven, Heritage grateful eyed to have, Even gods greed an earth-bound grave, O to get born here as human! __________________________________________ Musings | 15.01.16 |