Un-closed Path

My journeying, I assumed, had come
to its end with my wits and strengths;
and the road ahead, now closed
with all provisions exhausted;
and now for me time has come
to take shelter in soundless unimportance.

But I find that your will, your mercies
knows no end in me;
and when worn-out words die
my lips chant new songs;
when ancient paths are lost a new nation
with its marvels is uncovered.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 37

Henry Victor          07.09.2012