The Song of Nature

Before the call of muezzin, 

before the Om was revealed, 

before the hymns were written,

before all the sacred rituals,

that man ever invented, 

this nature sang for Thee.

The songs of rivers, whistling of winds, 

chirping of birds, sussarations of spring,

rising and falling tides, 

the prayers of grace and gratitude.

The nature sings still,

in Thy love,

all its melodies, attuned to Thee.

And some day, 

when we will all be gone,

'tis canticles will still echo.

The rhythm will never fade.

This poem reflects on the timeless devotion of nature, revealing that long before human rituals and prayers, nature already sang in honor of the divine. With the songs of rivers, winds, birds, and tides serving as prayers of grace and gratitude, this poem celebrates a primordial, eternal hymn. Even after humanity fades, nature’s canticles will continue to echo, preserving an everlasting rhythm of divine love—a sacred testament to the immutable bond between creation and the Creator. It reassures that even after humanity is gone, nature’s sacred melodies will continue to echo, eternally attuned to divine love.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Crimson eventides

Replete with cliché mushiness, 

and cheesy dialogues,

that's how all love stories are.

Impacable feelings,

impossible to reign in.

Theoretical chemical reactions 

work their magic in this mortal structure, 

primarily made of

hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, 

the pioneer ingredients of all life, 

blending effortlessly 

with a fleet of other elements. 

The village is painted red, 

with glare of passion.

A stereotype romantic tale, 

so easy to visualize. 

A guest knocks on the

chamber called heart,

and the sentry called brain

fails to announce 

the arrival of storm called love.

Thunderous reverberations of life follow. 

Approximate rhymes

become melodious songs.

And there's

inexplicable, mystifying fixation

with one another. 

We can not allow love.

For a simple reason

that it does not seek permission.

But slowly, gradually, we find 

that our eventides

are suffused with crimson.

Try as we might.

Linking with Wordle #328

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Song of our life

 Eventually, 

the spotlight shines on us.

Jingles resonate, 

excerpts from life. '' '' 

Mayhaps symphonic sonnets... 

perchance dissonant dribblings...

... 

we decide our echoes. 

Linking with Weekend Writing Prompt #259

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Sunup songs

Birds flutter, greens dance

to symphonic sunup songs,

resonant reggae.

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 

Song birds

Delicate ties of fragile thread,
running deep, profound.
Birds from flock,
defined by feathers, flights and songs,
bonded by blood, wired by sacraments,
we grow.
We change. We drift. We wander.
We stay. Rooted. Connected. Enduring. Surviving.
The knot secure but loose,
allowing enough space
to hold “me” and "mine” together.
The elements of zodiac,
the air, earth, water and fire,
so distinct and yet so dependent.
And like the constants of linear equations,
we reside in hearts.
Consistently. Continuously.
Subtle whispers,
slightest ripples
are enough
to stir us for each other.
For we are all but
large parts of one another.

Linking  with Thin Spiral Notebook :100 words

And Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt 

Unsung melody

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #251 plucked & played

And thus, the winter ends!

The golden globe
Sets about northwards.
The bonfires
Return longer, warmer days.
Ripened rabi invites
For sumptuous meals,
Garnished generously with love.
Folksongs on pouting lips,
Rhythm in feet,
And thank yous in heart
For fire and sun and light
In dreary winter days.
The colorful spring skies
Speckled
With kites soaring high.
Ensorcelled,
I relish this end of winter.

Sparrows must sing

The sparrows must sing
Busting symphony of love,
must revive the woods.

Linking with Ronovan Writes: Weekly Haiku Challenge #57