Roots – An Ode

In the misty hills, I had my childhood days;

Obser’d the ever growing change in a thousand ways;

Seen the dawn and the dusk,

Amidst the evergreen pines and the musk;

The falls and the rills do rhythm aloud,

Hidden amidst the enchanting clouds;

With serene lakes and silent caves,

The Orchid city does strike a chord –

Every faithful man to this mistress,

Thus, echoes its charm, in just one accord.

No doubt! Divine mercy crafted thy beauty –

Making every creation reflect its own bounty;

Such tailored composure entwines an odd mystery,

With folklore and vivid culture ceasing soul’s poverty;

Far away from the maddening clang,

Thou do share its own strives and pang;

As well, filth and deceit might taint thee,

But, thy blessings of grandeur and amity,

Sluices the dross, cleanses thy spirit of every grime –

Thus, thy existence chastened and manifestations benign.

Ethereal is thy aura with stirring devotion,

Gifted with richness and fruits of compassion;

All Lord’s seasons grace my abode,

To my roots – this is an ode.