Gururaj Ananda Yogi 24 agosto, 2014

It was hard this life..

It was a hard life this; digging the ground

who cares to know how parched it was

my back is broken carrying the water pails

I am old, the trees so young, bearing blossoms.

I console myself in the beauty of flowers,

They frolic in the wind but do not know

that the gardener with love and tender care nurtured them

now sits in the corner forgotten and forlorn

I watch the sun and wind and clouds floating by.

Every father craves a little smile for his labour.

I dug with bare hands, planting each seed lovingly

They do not care. I sit in the corner forgotten and forlorn.

Can you remember when you were a seedling

The rains never came and all prayers were in vain,

I cried and cried so tears would come and feed you

Now you are strong and couldn't care for the gardener

sitting in the corner forgotten and forlorn.

Hands were covered with manure and stink filled my clothes,

But you had to grow, I know the play of life is work.

Discarded am I as a rotten apple is;

Now I sit with broken bones forgotten and forlorn.

Powered By Creative Image Slider

Just click on the first image of the slider and read through the poem, one verse in every picture.

The Gardener

It was a hard life this; digging the ground,

Who cares to know how parched it was.

My back is broken carrying the water pails;

I am old, the trees so young, bearing blossoms.

I console myself in the beauty of the flowers,

They frolic in the wind but do not know

That the gardener with love and tender care nurtured them,

now sits in the corner – forgotten and forlorn.

I watch the saun and wind and clouds floating by.

Every father craves a little smile for his labour.

I dug with bear hands, planting each seed lovingly,

They, do not care. I sit in the corner forgotten and forlorn.

Can’t you remember when you were a seedling

The rains never came and all prayers were in vain,

I cried and cried so tears would come and feed you

Now you are strong and couldn’t care for the gardener

sitting in the corner forgotten and forlorn.

Hands were covered with manure and stink filled my clothes,

But you had to grow, I know the play of life is work.

Discarded am I as a rotten apple is;

Now I sit with broken bones forgotten and forlorn.

Filed Under: Ananda, Love, Pictures, Poetry Leave a Comment

Speak Your Mind Cancelar la respuesta

Fear and negative emotions

Fear is based upon our inadequacies So the basis of fear is based upon our inadequacies, and inadequacy is itself a fear. The basis of fear is insecurity, and insecurity is itself is a fear. Good. That can be got rid of by strengthening ourselves, by developing a greater awareness, by developing a greater integration […]

More about the "I"

Gururaj Ananda Yogi

Gururaj was born and raised Parsotam Narshi Bhana in India. He lived most of his life beyond age 20 in Cape Town, South Africa. From age 44 until his demise, which he predicted, at age 56, he devoted himself to teaching groups of people, amounting to tens of thousands of students, the art of personalised […]

To live is to be awakened

To live is to be awakened. To live is to be alive to all the forces of nature around us in alertness. Deep alertness is that vast awareness where the entire universe is comprehended. When a spark flies out from the fire, the spark thinks, “Oh, look at this long existence of mine!” But in […]