If The Soul Were To Sink Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Imagine a dust peck in the eye,
Pricking from the shoes a spiky nail,
Mosquitoes bite, flies fluttering by,
You soon twist every irritant's tail.
Imagine slightest of body pain—
Power snaps out in a scorching summer,
The flesh feels feverish, mind in strain,
In peevish rankle you show temper.

Now let's see, soul's made in shame to sink,
Nor alarm, annoyance, nor yet ire,
Nor as if your house is caught in fire,
Your ego would not bother to blink.
In matters ‘tween body and the soul,
I wonder why soul's a distant goal.
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Set in nine syllabic anapaest meter
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Sonnets | 01.07.08 |