Work Hand In Hand
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Prabir Gayen
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Work Hand in Hand
Prabir Kumar Gayen
Life is a battlefield,
you stand within it
wounded,
and yet luminous.
You are the struck one,
you are the hidden divine.
Work hand in hand
that the veiled dawn may arrive,
not as decree,
but as music,
as poetry,
as the slow breathing of a novel
written by many souls.
Work hand in hand
to awaken the great drama
where form is shaped
through form itself,
where Shakespeare finds his voice
within your silence,
where Milton bends rhythm
until Rabindranath answers
with a flame of song.
Work hand in hand
that the divine may fall
as petals,
as unnamed grace.
Waves of wishing will rise,
un-steadying the heart,
tilting the inner compass,
yet desire is not exile;
desire is blessing
when its buds are placed
upon the altar
of the Eternal Temple.
Awake.
Arise.
Do not halt
until every human breath
is counted.
One flower abandoned
cannot shape a garland.
Do not raise your hand
against your brother,
your sister,
they are your shield.
Do not turn upon your kin.
Do not fracture yourselves.
For life will then harden
into a widening desert,
and annihilation
will wear the mask of destiny.
The blood of brothers and sisters
will flow
only to remind you
of a forgotten radiance.
Awake.
Love your own lineage.
Lay down the smallness of mind
to enter
the shared consciousness
that listens beyond ego.
O ancient bloodline
of Krishna,
of Buddha,
of Mahavir,
O primordial song
of Ashtavakra,
of Pythagoras,
of Heraclitus,
Muse of the Aionian hills,
saga of unperishing beauty,
sons and daughters
of Zen and Judaism,
bearers of epic breath
and divine message,
Unite
for a single cause:
to endure,
and to shape the eternal joy
of living
in peace
without surrendering truth.
A dark age advances silently
along the corridor of unawareness,
where two hands
of the same body
strike one another
and call it fate.
Stop.
Do not war
with your own mind,
your own flesh,
you are notes
of a single, undying tune.
Be One,
without second thought,
recognizing each being
as essential breath.
Feel the union.
Work together
to face the darkness
where literature is named sin,
where music is declared betrayal,
where goddesses are condemned
as shadows.
Stand as one voice
with all your brothers and sisters
and sing
the language that precedes language.
In the Garden of Eden
only one flower is violent,
one rot is enough
to turn soil into dust.
Unite,
and that decay will heal,
or be removed
so that humanity may pass.
From ancient Greece to Bethlehem,
from England's old breath to India's soul,
the same song arose
in different tongues
to shelter humankind.
Come closer.
Enter union.
That union itself
is the highest resistance,
the most sacred fight.
@Prabir Gayen
08/01/2026/12: 35 PM.
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