The mountain hermit's soul
lives withdrawn in the peaceof self content, the cloistered recluse' soul
dwells apart in a fellowless sphere
but next to food, the need of human family
is love, support and appreciation, unfound
outside the pack. Those who live
by the side of the road, by opening
the door, feels good, not looks good, thinking
how would he feel, were he, the helpless
one, knocking. A smile that brings a smile
on the less privileged, is more than
an outstretched helping hand. One can
be an ear that listens ,because he feels
and therefore cares, loves people and mourns
their departure, for he draws the curtains
that veils their lives and sees each other's
soul. Compassion to others is not self-cruelty
but an act of the gardener of good deeds
cultivated
for the betterment of humanity. We can all
be helpful for we all have something
to give. When a whole people practice
the ritual of giving and forgetting,
selflessness becomes their
mother tongue.
Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 40 times
Written on 2025-02-24 at 00:26
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