The Seventh Sense

They stood still
And yet, they grew
Not hurried
Not hassled
No control
On what happened

In rhythm with nature

Budding, blooming

Withering, falling

The cycle, ever-going

Not frustrated

Silent, self-generated

Not thinking

Of beauty and ugliness

From the surrounding

Drawing nourishment

Just letting things happen

Or wilting, if so fated

 

Healing or failing

Sometimes rejuvenating

Taking as per need

No signs of greed

Giving food, giving

The very air we breathe!

No, our sixth sense

Demands much more

It needs validation

And loves anticipation

Success, excitement

A sense of achievement

Trapped in a Seventh Sense

The sense of time

Always conscious

Of its passing

Of our end, impending

Of the sands slipping

The flowing grains

Trying to grasp

Still, it falls

Through the gaps 

The ticking clock

Making the heart beat fast

The cage narrows

Tighter and tighter

We get bound

By ropes of fear

Struggling like

The trapped deer

Intelligence aplenty 

Does wisdom it guaranty?

What a tree knows

Have we forgotten?

What is not ours

Hold to us, we cannot

To let things be

To flow and be free

Not to rush through

Let things happen when due

Time is finite

Success and failure definite

To lead our lives

In tune with nature

Grow up and 

Be gone as expected

With dignity stand tall 

And when the time comes, just fall.