O Lone Tramp
O Lonely tramp, a word to warn thy heart,
as you now unravel, the mystery,’ tis a bart,
For greater wisdom and power it shall beget,
and leave you alone it shall on the lively wreck.
The path of realization, is paved with blood,
that you shed silently, though your life it floods,
And the world when it turns to you, at every fit,
in your heart you bleed a river, though none see it.
For though you may end up to be, the greatest of all,
and you may save and mend, many a deathly fall,
Still the weight of all your burdens none can bear,
As you take on the weight, of each of the worlds cares.
And the world shall know it not, and they never shall,
see the bloody heart, for they stand in thrall,
of their own lives, that lead them far away,
from the heavenly father, they ever stand in sway.
For they ever remain within, their own selves,
and they realize not, whither their qualms dwell,
As they seek each and every answer from thy heart,
ever they fail to know, its unhealed healing art.
But you know better for your own self this,
that your heart bleeds for them though, seldom missed
They live out a happy dream, with winning smiles,
for you walk with a bleeding heart, all their dark miles.
And they shall know it not, till the end of all ends,
a place where, with time, all hurts may mend,
and there perchance, your heart may stand at last,
bereft of its sorrow, as it breathes its last.
And the pain that you bore, with yourself to the end,
shall mar you not for its not yours but was lent,
to you as you bore it for those that you loved,
and in their smiles your heart was healed of its qualms.
And know this in the end, o great king of kings,
in your greater self, I spread my meager wings.
And my heart though now it bleeds, at peace it remains,
for thy robe shall be spared of a few more stains.
Ajinkya Mate
O Lonely tramp, a word to warn thy heart,
as you now unravel, the mystery,’ tis a bart,
For greater wisdom and power it shall beget,
and leave you alone it shall on the lively wreck.
The path of realization, is paved with blood,
that you shed silently, though your life it floods,
And the world when it turns to you, at every fit,
in your heart you bleed a river, though none see it.
For though you may end up to be, the greatest of all,
and you may save and mend, many a deathly fall,
Still the weight of all your burdens none can bear,
As you take on the weight, of each of the worlds cares.
And the world shall know it not, and they never shall,
see the bloody heart, for they stand in thrall,
of their own lives, that lead them far away,
from the heavenly father, they ever stand in sway.
For they ever remain within, their own selves,
and they realize not, whither their qualms dwell,
As they seek each and every answer from thy heart,
ever they fail to know, its unhealed healing art.
But you know better for your own self this,
that your heart bleeds for them though, seldom missed
They live out a happy dream, with winning smiles,
for you walk with a bleeding heart, all their dark miles.
And they shall know it not, till the end of all ends,
a place where, with time, all hurts may mend,
and there perchance, your heart may stand at last,
bereft of its sorrow, as it breathes its last.
And the pain that you bore, with yourself to the end,
shall mar you not for its not yours but was lent,
to you as you bore it for those that you loved,
and in their smiles your heart was healed of its qualms.
And know this in the end, o great king of kings,
in your greater self, I spread my meager wings.
And my heart though now it bleeds, at peace it remains,
for thy robe shall be spared of a few more stains.
Ajinkya Mate
