With the craft and finesse of a lion
Soul is proud and sleepy
Seduced by the waters it passed
Struck with its own beauty
Pride took over valour
Stride came to a halt
Soul’s no more vigil
To hunt the thirsty jackal
The bubble of image
Keeps the lion in trance
Daydreams the lion
Of dishes served in the lawn
Is it not shameful
To be a lion and never hunt
Be the king, and yet toil
Never let thy soul go blunt
For every thirsty lion
There is a divine puddle
Mashook Rahman
Photo Courtesy: Internet
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