Donot ascend to the zenith, Or walk into the rubbles, Stand right there Over the pavement of life, And savour the spiritual brush! A succoring hand you lend, To the man without the sight Lay colour in his blanched canvas. He will adorn you with grace, And you savour the spiritual brush! Palm the fingers of a newborn Lingering softness purges The soaked heart from blackness, Healing the burdened soul And you savour the spiritual brush! A hearty potluck you dish, Long famished man's dead sapor, He relishes every morsel, Beneath his eyes sparks heaven And you savour the spiritual brush! The cadence of the purling wind, Twirling your temple hair; Or the resonating summer downpour. The bestowed karma on us Mingles with our cultured breathes. Yield the heart amidst, And you savour the spiritual brush! Donot woo for the hallowed bliss, Or happiness in Elysium do seek. Cast your shadows around--- In the wee drops of rain, Or the peeping beams of sun. In the harmony of tuned lyrics Or in the essence of inked verses For all in the bosom Conceives the spiritual touches...!