Moon Over Budhakhol Hill Poem by Saroj Padhi

The pale Moon over lush Budhakhol hill
waxes and wanes like the lotus at the navel
of prophet Budha in his centuries old cave,
surrounded with shrubs and creepers' coil,

pondering over the progress of peace clouds
that bloom and rise above repugnant thorns
of conflict that hearts with mystery shrouds,
to outstretch beyond beleaguered borders
across the sizzling, fuming waters of Pangong,
preaching beauty of tolerance to lusty leaders

who want to grab the chunks from the land
of bliss in a mad zeal to expand and conquer
forgetting past promises and deeds of honour;

the brook jumps down from feet of lord Shiva
seated with His incarnations of love in temples
that bespeak the beauty of the souls in ripples

of infinite love for the minutest bud in bloom
in his vast land green that dispels stray gloom
and black bucks dance as God in hearts' room,

tall trees clad in stardust hold bunches of beam
to drink peace of the night and go on with the dream
of love's warbles in heart of Rushikulya's stream.