The Cold and the Pain
A wind doth blows, on this dreary evening.
As pain ripples through, the mind is numb.
It is involved in an endless search.
Love? perhaps? the mind knows not.
After all, what does the mind know about the heart?
And what does the heart know about the mind?
When each slight breeze plunges the pain deeper
The mind just struggles, looking round and round.
And then it gets muffled up again,
In the warm blanket of distraction.
For the mind shouldn’t know what it is searching for,
When it finds what it searched, it would reach fulfillment
And since it is good, it must not happen.
And so the mind is stifled, again and again in distractions,
Of books and talks, Of Music and what not.
Oh! that the mind realizes the warmth is but for vain.
Aye, the chillness is better,
It will wake up to the death it has to face.
The pain is good, remove the warmth,
Throw away the falsehood, and distractions
Go search for what is true for the mind.