Atul Ranchod
It did not know of yesterday.
It had no idea its doom is imminent.
It didn’t care about anything.
It was impervious to any wish or desire.
It was consumed
In the fire of the beloved.
The perfect distance
To foster this exact moment.
Beaming, beauty, becoming.
What thread do we see?
How deeply have we looked
At this thing called beauty?
What will become of us
If we took lessons from
This silent sentient beacon
Of how to behold the beloved?
What would transform our barren land
Into the most priceless garden?
There aren’t any words
To describe such a feeling.
Nor will there ever be.
This thing called existence
Which gives birth to beauty
Is what is blooming
Each second of each moment.
The trance of time once broken,
Can reawaken the vision
To behold the beauty unspoken.
Such is the reflection I feel,
In this exact moment.
Atul Ranchod
topofthewater.me 