Rising Sun and Walking Beauty

The sun was slowly rising in the east
Like a red orange
A tall lady in deep blue saree
Was marching ahead of me,’
Along with a short, aged lady
Conversing on physics and spirituality.

With all grace and poise,
A Stern looking face,
A light bright smile radiating it
She could not escape my
Attention and concentration.
Alternating my eye between the
‘Rising sun’ and ‘walking beauty’ who was
In the twilight of upper middle age,
I was appreciating both God’s wonderful,
Marvelous creations.

As a Supreme Artist, He was
Painting the ‘Red Sun’ with all
Festivity and fervor.
The other creation
Looking more like a painted picture with all its
Infinite variety of color and complexion
Something like an eternal beauty.

While she was moving like a gentle breeze
I was moved by the
Technological marvel of God.
Like the rising pleasant Sun,
She also lingered in my memory
After she was gone
Did not one poet say,
“Past can’t be a false memory”
It is true by any standard
In any situation

Given the ageing process,
To keep the life machine going,
I must walk, enjoy it
And get energized by it
Occasional glimpses of this kind
Of divine beauty, and of course
Watching sunrise/ sunset
Meeting school friends and so on
Are additional bonus.
Having been beaten on all tracks
And tasted cumulative bitter events
Incidents and memories,
It’s better for you to
Take refugee in simple yoga,
Stretching and breathing exercises.
A very old foreign lady was practicing yoga
Doing like tapas,
Easily and effortlessly.
I told to myself,
Get tuned by her,
And not
Get lured by the middle age beauty
Which in any case,
To be beholden by eye
And appreciated and just that.

But, all said and done,
As long as the earth rotates,
We shall marvel at all
God’s creation, for they are just
Wonderful and blissful